


Adrenalize

by The_Girl_Almighty, wickedarcher_08



Series: Ta'ooed On My Heart [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, BDSM, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Breathplay, Collars, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, DomCom, Edgeplay, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fluff, Humor, Just lots of fucking, Lingerie, M/M, Marking, Mirror Sex, Multi, No Angst, Orgasm Denial, Piercings, Praise Kink, Punishment, Rimming, Roleplay, Safewords, Self-Discovery, Sex Toys, Smut, Spanking, Subspace, Tattoos, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Undernegotiated Kink, Voyeurism, Watching, daddy!louis, rotisserie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-09 13:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Girl_Almighty/pseuds/The_Girl_Almighty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedarcher_08/pseuds/wickedarcher_08
Summary: Louis and Harry prepare for an anniversary dinner. Louis has some fun surprises for Harry up his sleeve, but it isn’t until they get to dinner that the fun really begins. Will they indulge in the Australian delicacy on offer? Or will they go home longing to taste it.__________Come a little bit closer, before we beginLemme tell you how I want itAnd exactly what I needI’m here for one drugI’m only here for one thingSo come on and tell meCan you fly like you’re freeCause I need to feelYeah, I need to sayI must confessI’m addicted to thisShove your kiss straight through my chestI can’t deny, I’d die without thisMake me feel like a godMusic, love and sex





	1. Pulsating Ass Corks and Australian Delicacies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a present to all of you for getting Hurts So Good up to 2k hits, and growing. So thank you! We love you all! We are so appreciative of every single person that reads our stories, individual or collabs. 
> 
> Many people have asked if we write these in sections, as in she takes one and I take another. The answer is, we do not. We literally write at the same time on the same doc in the same place. It's crazy, but we are on the same wave length I guess. 
> 
> This work is going to be multi chaptered and is almost finished! So that's exciting! 
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you like this, please check out our other fics on Ao3  
> The_Girl_Almighty: Illusion  
> WickedArcher_08: Cool for the Summer and others

“Oh fuck! Yes, Daddy. Yes, yes, yes! Oh fuck!”

Louis’ cock is throbbing painfully, trapped and neglected beneath the waistband of his joggers. The more Harry rambles the harder he becomes, and he isn't sure how much more he can take. Fuck. Harry's words are like a shockwave straight to his leaking slit, and he doesn't want him to stop. He never wants him to fucking stop, however he has to or he won’t be able to refrain.

“If you don’t be quiet, I am going to have to stuff something in that pretty little mouth of yours,” Louis warns, hoping the command comes out strong since he doesn't mean a single fucking word he is saying. He loves Harry’s sounds, but he needs him to stop or he will fuck him and possibly ruin the whole evening. He can’t let his cock think for him this time, even though it is the whole reason he got Harry in the first place. He hisses in a breath when Harry presses his thigh against Louis’ aching shaft on purpose.

“Just for that, I am not gonna let you come until tonight. Until _I_ say so. How does that sound?” Louis asks, sliding another finger inside Harry, working up to three now. Harry whimpers, but stops his squirming a bit. Louis smacks his thigh for good measure, keeping most of the sting on the meaty part. Harry’s pale skin turns an enticing shade of pink where the smack landed, driving Louis that much more insane.

“Good boy,” Louis praises, crooking his fingers and brushing against Harry’s prostate easily. Louis watches as Harry brings his plump bottom lip between his straight, white teeth, biting hard, so he doesn't make any sounds. He is definitely affected by the action, his bound hands tightening into fists.

“Daddy. Please, please let me come,” Harry begs, moaning around the words. He looks utterly obscene from where Louis is kneeling behind him. The way that his cheeks are flushed red, his chocolate curls damp with sweat and sticking to his face and neck. His teeth have left imprints in his bottom lip, and his spine is curved inwards, his thick, throbbing cock bouncing with the movement of Louis’ fingers in his asshole. Yup. This has definitely got to be Louis’ favourite view of all time. Hands down. No fucking exceptions. Fuck. Why does he do this to himself? He is supposed to be edging Harry, instead he’s doing a bang up job of edging himself.

“I told you. You can come tonight, when I say you can. Not a moment before. You have to be a good boy for Daddy, and good boys don’t beg. Now, what else do good boys not do?” Louis asks, mostly to distract himself but also to make sure Harry is still with him. That his boy hasn’t dropped off the the face of the earth, or floated up into the heavens.

“Come,” Harry breaths out, the word leaving him on a breathy huff. Fuck. If he keeps that shit up  much longer that is exactly what Louis is going to do. He resumes his previous task of opening Harry wide with his fingers, using his tongue to trace around the tight ring of muscle his fingers are currently occupying. Harry tastes so fucking good. Like rainbows and sunshine and all that sappy shit that Louis can’t think of right now because he may or may not be in fucking heaven. Literally, and by heaven he means fucking the one and only Harry Hippie-Mc-Pain-Kink Styles.

He realises a little too late that Harry has answered his question, but he has been so busy indulging himself in Harry’s ass that he’s forgotten to reply. So instead, he simply continues to uses his fingers and tongue to pull rumbling moans and breathy words from Harry, because fuck, who doesn’t want to hear that?

“Oh god,” Harry whispers, barely audible against the sound of licking and the wet suction noises Louis is currently making. Louis thought about replying with something ridiculously cheesy like ‘No just Louis’, but decides against it.

“God has nothing to do with this,” Louis answers with a smirk, diving back into Harry’s ass, licking between his spread fingers. Harry should have known better than to mention God. He has known Louis for exactly five years now, and never once has that phrase been answered with anything other than sarcasm. He is pretty sure Harry would have screamed, but he was being such a good boy and keeping quiet, except the occasional moan or string of religious expletives. Louis glances up to check on his bound wrists, not wanting the skin to break and ruin any chances of their evening plans. Harry’s bound wrists are red, but no skin is broken.

Louis gives himself a mental pat on the back for choosing a light pink shade of soft, velvet material to bind Harry with, instead of something harsher like actual rope, because he is a good fucking boyfriend. The shade of pink brings out the stunning shade of green of Harry’s eyes and is a stark contrast to the wrought iron bed head Harry is bound to. All in all, it’s a magnificent sight, and if Louis wasn’t three fingers deep in Harry’s asshole right now, he’d probably photograph him like this. You know, for prosperity or however the fuck that saying goes.

Louis glances at the clock on Harry’s bedside table, and oh fuck, they are going to be late if he doesn't wrap this up. Wrap it up? There’s a novel idea. That’s something he hasn’t done in fucking forever. He doesn’t even know if he owns a condom anymore. The one and only time he and Harry had ever used one, Harry had moped around the house for hours afterwards, complaining about being denied his favourite thing in the entire world, as if Louis’ come is the very fuel to his existence. Maybe it is, for Louis fucking knows. Louis definitely thinks Harry is the fuel to his own existence. And so, like the caring and generous man he is, Louis had promptly thrown out every condom he owned and let Harry suck him like a Mac Truck. Crisis averted.  

“Alright, baby. I think you are nice and open for me later, wouldn’t you say so?” Louis asks, looking up to see Harry nodding along, like he may actually get to come in the next few minutes if he agrees. He is wrong, but the boy has to dream Louis supposes and who does Louis think he is to disillusion him?  Louis leaves his fingers in while he uses his clean, well, slightly cleaner hand, to grab his chosen butt plug. He bought it for Harry fairly recently, and has been dying to try it out. It is a shiny silver, with a teal rose on the end. He carefully removes his fingers, smacking Harry’s ass when he whimpers at the loss. He then gently slides the plug in, the colour looking beautiful nestled between Harry’s cheeks, the pink skin of his hole forming a tight barrier around it. Louis would write sonnets about the sight, but poetry has never been his thing. Harry’s asshole however, definitely his thing.

“Colour?” Louis asks then, letting his voice take on a somewhat normal tone. He wants to check that Harry is okay and still with him. Safety first and all that.

“Green, Daddy. Always green for you.” Fuck. The sound of those words leaving Harry’s parted, kiss bitten lips sends shockwaves straight to Louis cock. Who needs a vibrating cock ring when Harry Fucking Styles is your boyfriend? Not fucking Louis, no Sir.

“Good, baby,” Louis praises, Harry preening at the attention. “And what’s your safe word?” Louis asks, just to make sure they are both on the same page.

“Kiwi,” Harry answers instantly, and Louis smiles remembering the day they established the safeword. Louis insisted that the word be something neither of them say during sex, and since Louis is allergic to fruit and anything remotely healthy, they decided on Kiwi, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry had originally suggested Nut Juice, but Louis hadn't been able to keep a straight face at the mere thought, and so it had been agreed that a laughing fit in the middle of a scene may be a mood killer.

“Very, very good, baby. So proud. Now, I am going to untie you, but you have to promise you will not touch yourself,” Louis tells him, putting the sternness back in his tone, brooking no argument.

“I promise,” Harry responds, looking at Louis with glassy eyes, pupils blown so much so that the green is barely visible. His cheeks are red, to match his lips, and his curls are in a frenzy. Louis doesn't know if he has ever seen something so breathtaking. Seriously, he is going to have to find a residue free lube that will allow him to use his phone to take pictures. Or invest in a selfie pole, whichever comes first, although he refuses to be ‘that person’. Right now, he’ll probably come first if Harry doesn’t stop speaking to him in that tone of voice. Fuck.

He could sell this shit to an art gallery and make a fucking killing. It could be called ‘The Most Interesting Contradiction’.  Because Harry is a contradiction. The walking, talking fucking embodiment of the word. What with his nut juice frappe’s and his adopted baby Two-Toed- Sloth named Reginald, that he has never met and would never hold in some random country like Equador, because ‘Lou, look how cute! It needs help’, and Louis knows better than to argue with Harry when it comes to shit like that. Yet here they are, with Harry bound to their bed, begging him to come with a sparkly, teal, rose headed, butt plug nestled in his asshole. Fuck. Louis really needs to concentrate on untying Harry and not on the countless list of things he’d love to be doing to his ass right now or they’ll never make their dinner reservation. Who’s fucking idea was it to have dinner anyway? Oh right, his. Anniversary dinner. Focus Louis. _Focus_.

Louis reaches up to untie Harry, inspecting his wrists for damage. When he finds none, he rubs the sensitive red skin soothingly. When Harry turns over, Louis does his best not to stare at Harry’s hard cock, but fuck is it hard not too. Just as hard has Harry’s cock. Louis chuckles at his own pun because he is fucking hilarious, but does his best to keep a straight face for Harry. His cock is not much better than Harry’s at the moment, both of them competing to see who can win the ‘balls so blue’ challenge. Louis thinks he may be in the lead, but isn’t sure. He can’t be sure of anything at the current moment when Harry is blinking at him with glazed over eyes and red, kiss bitten lips. Fuck. Focus. He can do that.

Louis reaches into the pocket of his joggers, finding his present for Harry. “Baby. I know you said no gifts other than when we get home, but I got you a little something. It will make you so pretty, even though you are already the prettiest boy in the world,” Louis starts, keeping his hand in a fist to conceal the object.

“Daddy, what is it?” Harry asks, eyes closing with a breathy moan when he moves to sit on his ass, pushing the plug in further.

“Hold out your hand,” Louis tells him, smiling at Harry reassuringly, knowing his boyfriend is probably starting to slip. He needs to keep him anchored though, and talking usually helps. Harry holds out one large shaking hand, palm up. Louis places the soft material in it, smiling when Harry’s eyes light up in realistion. Harry’s grin is now so wide, both of his dimples are popping as he holds up a pair of blue, lacy knickers. Louis had seen them on a mannequin in a shop window as he’d been heading to the Tea Shop to meet Harry after his shift at work one day last week. He’d stood and stared at them for an unhealthy amount of time and just couldn’t walk away without them.

The cornflower blue material looks delicate even in Harry’s large hands, the intricate lace detailing causing pretty shadows on his skin beneath the material. Louis’ favourite feature by far, however, is the scooped back and criss cross string detailing. He had popped an inopportune boner in the middle of the store imagining how they would look on Harry, whose legs go up to his face, and how they  become an extension of his spine and just fuck. He had to have them, and so he had bought them there and then, no questions asked. Thank the Gods for small mercies. He wasn't sure the middle aged, rosary toting woman working behind the counter would have survived being told he was buying them for his boyfriend.

“Really? For me, Lou? They are so pretty,” Harry says, green eyes sparkling, which are now mostly black thanks to Louis’ magical tongue and fingers. His last name may as well be Potter at this point. He should jump on the Hogwarts express and be on his way to Hogwarts. 

“Pretty knickers for an even prettier boy,” Louis responds, barely suppressing an eyeroll because he kind of wants to throw up for that line, but he knows Harry will eat it up. He loves shit like that, well, at least in the bedroom he does, and Louis is always in the business of pleasing Harry. Always.

“Thank you, Daddy! I love them,” Harry exclaims, wrapping Louis in a tight hug, Harry’s hands coming around to grasp his own biceps, clearly not wanting to let Louis go. Louis hugs back, happy to have his favourite boy in his arms.

“You’re welcome, baby. Now put them on. We are going to be late for dinner if we don’t get a move on,” Louis says, pulling out of Harry’s grasp, as much as it physically hurts him to do so. Louis grins down at his phone as he makes his way into the ensuite, tapping a button in an app.

He smiles, when he hears Harry moan, “Oh Fuck”.  The fucking thing works. It actually works! Louis is going to have far too much fun with this tonight, he can just feel it.

“What was that, baby?” Louis asks, silently telling his cock to calm the fuck down. He was doing so good at project ‘no boner during dinner’, too. The thought makes him smile more, taking him back to the day he first met Harry and how badly and yet wonderfully his ‘projects’ had turned out that day. He looks at Harry, who is clearly trying to work out what just happened.

“I-- um-- I,” Harry stammers out his lips forming an ‘o’ that Louis may or may not want to sink his dick into. His poor neglected cock may not make it through actual dinner at this point. He should have had a wank, but now there is no time. Need-to-nut navy balls it is then. It’s not the first time that has happened in close proximity to Harry, and it certainly won’t be the fucking last. The past five years have been spent in a strange mixture of need-to-nut-navy balls and ‘Yes, Daddy, I will’. Louis wouldn’t have it any other way though.

“Baby, you better get dressed. We are going to be late,” Louis says, smiling at Harry. Harry closes his mouth, thank Eros or Aphrodite or some fucking god related to love and sex and all of that jazz. He thinks he may have heard their names on Hercules or something when he watched it with his little sisters, but he will never know. Louis watches as Harry gingerly gets off the bed, probably trying not to move the plug too much. Louis turns around, smiling smugly because that plan is not going to happen tonight. Nope. Not a snowflake’s chance in hell is that going to work.

Louis walks into the ensuite, hurriedly brushing his teeth and moving over to allow Harry to do the same. Louis watches Harry’s naked bum as he walks back to the bed, picking up his new knickers and stepping into them. It takes 84 years for the material to make its way up Harry’s obscenely long legs, finally settling over his half hard cock, the material laying right below the laurel tattoos Louis inked into his skin three and half years ago. Oh fuck. Louis needs to stop this train of thought before he comes in his clean boxers. They are already going to be late as it is.

Louis can’t stop his hand from reaching out and tracing over the moth-er-fly tattoo that started it all. He is feeling sentimental, so sue him. Hardly daring to believe that he and Harry have been together now for five blissful years. He can't begin to imagine what his life would be like without his hippie in it, and he can't even remember what his life was like before him either. Actually. Yes, he does. Dull and fucking empty that's what it was. Who knew a moth-er-fly tattoo could have changed his life forever? If Liam had told him that the one and only Harry Styles, hippie and self proclaimed avocado connoisseur would change his life for the better, he’d have laughed in his faced and told him to fuck off and change his weed supplier because his supply was clearly laced. Yet, here they were, with too many matching tattoos to count and too many orgasms to be healthy between them. Louis would never admit it, not even to Harry, but he would always be forever grateful for the curly haired, green eyed boy who had turned his world upside down. Always.

 

__________

 

“Ready to go in, love?” Harry hears Louis’ soft raspy voice pulling him back down to earth. Fuck. He was in a lovely fantasy where Louis had actually let him come earlier when he was tied to the bed. He could feel the soft pink material still around his wrists as Louis ate him out, three fingers deep. He could almost feel the vibrations on his rim when Louis would moan, causing a shock of pleasure to shoot through him. His cock is hard again. Fuck. How the hell is he going to make it through this dinner without coming in his jeans?

“Oh. Um-- Yeah. I think so,” Harry answers, shaking his head, trying to clear it a bit and looking at Louis. Louis smiles at him warmly, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“You don’t have to do this, baby. You know that right? Just say the word, and we can take care of you,” Louis offers, his voice sincere. Harry doesn’t want it to be over though. He loves the game. He loves to see how far Louis can push his body. He shakes his head, both in answer and to clear it up a bit more, willing his erection to go down in his overly tight skinny jeans.

“Good boy,” Louis praises, the words enveloping Harry like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer. Harry is a good boy. Louis’ good boy. When Harry reaches for the door handle, Louis grabs him, pulling him closer. Harry barely registers Louis’ breath on his lips before Louis places a soft chaste kiss on them, pulling away before it can get too heated.

“I love you, Hazza,” Louis says, smiling at Harry, but his head is spinning. Louis is just so perfect in every way. Harry will never ever regret scheduling a tattoo appointment with the man he had seen in the tea shop every day. He had been fascinated by Louis from the very beginning. He had always been able to brighten Harry’s day, making jokes with the staff and always being a larger than life, infectious personality that Harry couldn’t seem to get enough of. Harry had almost died a thousand deaths when he’d overheard Louis telling another patron that he owned the tattoo shop down the street, so in a moment of divine wisdom, Harry had run to the back room and booked himself an appointment with Louis. He knew he would be affected by the pain, but hoped that Louis would be as well. It turned out to be the best day of his life.

“I love you, too, Lou,” Harry responds, smiling at the memory. When he finally told Louis that it was his plan all along, he thought Louis would be mad. It turns out, Louis just thought it was hilarious. Apparently Louis would have been saved a lot of painful and neglected boners that day if Harry would have just came out and said he was interested. Harry felt the same way. It was still a fucking miracle Louis didn’t notice he was hard almost the entire session.  Or at least Harry hoped he hadn’t noticed, not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things. It had all worked out perfectly in the end.

Louis doesn’t respond, just smiles again and opens the car door, letting his body fall to the floor of the parking lot because his legs couldn’t touch the ground. Harry thinks it’s adorable but would never ever tell Louis that. He would be punished. Then again, maybe he should, so he would be punished. Harry muses over the thought as he opens his own door, gingerly getting out of the passenger side, quickly being reminded that he has a plug in his ass. He is still trying to work out where the vibrating had come from. It happened once and then never happened again. It was a mystery he is determined to get to the bottom of, preferably before his dick falls off or his balls explode with the need to come.

When Harry is finally out of the vehicle, Louis takes his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing the back of it gently. Harry smiles at him because that’s all he can do. He barely suppresses a moan when the plug moves again, pressing against his prostate. He does his best to keep his steps even and measured, but he doesn’t think it is working when he spies a smirk on Louis’ face. Harry hates him. Well not really, but he is getting far too much enjoyment out of Harry’s torture. Louis gives his name to the hostess when they walk in. The pretty brunette with a too high ponytail smiles at them and tells them to follow her.

“Louis?” Harry hears a voice as soon as they sit down. He turns in the direction Louis is  looking for the person it came from. Standing a little aways from their table is a tall, incredibly handsome man, with dirty blonde hair and as many tattoos and piercings as Louis and Harry have combined. He flashes Louis and Harry a devastating toothy grin, dimples popping and well, he’s fucking hot. If Harry wasn’t already trying to keep his dick at bay he certainly is now. Fuck. Tonight is going to be all kinds of cruel and unusual punishment, and honestly Harry is living for that shit.

“Ashton! Hey mate, how are ya?” Louis greets, standing up to give the other man a hug. Harry watches the pair exchange greetings, his eyes roaming over Ashton’s body, damn near fucking drooling over the way his back and shoulder muscles are straining in his tight leather jacket. When Harry looks at Louis expectantly, because he better fucking introduce him, Louis laughs and says “Ash, this is my boyfriend Harry. Harry this is Ash, another tattoo artist. We met at an expo a few years ago.”

When Ashton reaches out a hand to shake Harry’s, Harry almost faints. Right as their hands touch, he feels the plug settled between his cheeks vibrate again. What the fuck? Is this a sign from God? Fuck he hopes not. He’s no doubt gearing up to smite him. Harry can see it now. Death by electrocuted asshole, but that is the least of his worries. What the fuck is happening right now? He just knows that Ashton’s hand is incredibly warm, and his dick is ridiculously hard. “Yeah. Very nice to meet you, Ashton,” Harry manages to get out, without moaning Ashton’s name, somehow. The vibrations have stopped, thankfully, but he can still feel it in his balls. Fuck. It is going to be a long night.

“Pleasure,” Ashton purrs, and did he just fucking wink!? Fuck. Pleasure indeed. “What brings you two love birds to such a fine dining establishment as this one?” He continues, and both Harry and Louis laugh because right now the three of them being in such a tight laced, stiff upper lip restaurant is tempting fate if you ask Harry. He may have a baby Two-Toed-Sloth named Reginald that he adopted and still love his almond milk frappes, but long gone are his days of being the poster boy for organic guacamole and hipster bars.

In the five years that Harry has known Louis, his small collection of meaningful but seemingly random tattoos have turned into the majority of both sleeves, his chest and neck. He also added a few fun piercings into the mix and well, to put it plainly, little old ladies cross the street when they see him coming.

“Harry and I are celebrating an anniversary of sorts. We were actually going to give each other tattoo’s after dinner,” Louis tells Ashton. Harry kicks Louis under the table, gaining his attention. Louis looks confused for a moment, but Harry nods towards Ashton, giving Louis a look that he hopes conveys his desperation and says ‘he’s yummy, daddy, can we please take him home?’

“Oh, that sounds fun!” Ashton says, and Harry believes that Ashton really does think it sounds fun.

“You should join us,” Louis says, pushing out the seat at the table that seats four. “If you’re not here with anyone that is.”

“No. I’m not. My date stood me up actually, but I can’t ruin your evening. You guys are celebrating an anniversary, and I don’t want to come between that.” Harry almost snorts because yes, fuck, please come between that. He can come everywhere for that matter.

“Oh, you wouldn’t ruin it. In fact, you may make it better. I was going to do Louis’ tattoo, but I am by no means a professional. I don’t wanna fuck it up. Maybe you could do it,” Harry says, giving Ashton a look he usually only reserves for Louis when he wants Louis to do something. Harry knows the moment Louis realises that Harry has forgotten he’s even at the table with him, as the vibrations of the plug start up gain. He knows his eyes are as wide as saucers, and he has lifted slightly out of his chair, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape with the force of it, and he wants to fucking strangle Louis because Ashton is now looking at him as though he is deranged. Fuck. Louis definitely has some type of remote for his plug that he didn’t tell him about. That asshole.

“Yeah. We would love for you to join us for the evening,” Louis adds, smirking at Harry, but Harry knows the smirk is because of his double meaning.

“Come. Sit,” Harry says, patting the fabric of the chair closest to him, because fuck you Louis Tomlinson, two can play at this game. Now all he can imagine is coming, and feels it when Louis starts the vibration up again. This time he doesn’t think he outwardly shows it as much, but he could be wrong because fuck it feels so good. He knows Louis has the upper hand here, so why is he doing this to himself? Oh right. He’s a masochist. How could he fucking forget?

“Okay. If you’re sure,” Aston responds, looking between the two men like he isn’t in on a secret. To be fair, he isn’t. Ashton glances down at the seat between Louis and Harry, still looking between the two curiously, but he eventually sinks down in the proffered seat, looking at Louis for confirmation one last time.

“Oh, we are hard set on it,” Louis says, smirking at Harry. Harry almost laughs, but manages to keep his face straight. Well maybe not completely straight, nothing about him is completely straight. Not his feet, not his hair, and definitely not his sexuality. Everyone's a little bit gay aren’t they?

“Yes, Ash. You joining us really was a stroke of genius. I’m sorry to hear your date stood you up. Her loss though,” Harry fishes, waiting to see if Ashton says it wasn’t a ‘her’.

“Yeah. Her loss,” Ashton answers and damn, but Harry stands by his earlier statement. Everyone is a little big gay, and he has now made it his life’s mission to work out just how much of Ashton bats for the other team. The better team if you ask Harry. He’s never had a date stand him up, but most people have never met the love of their life in a tattoo shop and fucked their way to a free tattoo either.

“Maybe you should try a boyfriend next time,” Harry muses, looking at Ashton out of the corner of his eye while he pretends to study the menu nestled in his large, ring clad hands. He can see it when Ashton realises what he has just said, but he is happy to note that he doesn’t look completely horrified at the idea. Intrigued. He looks fucking fascinated by the idea. Ding. One point to Harry.

“So, what is everyone thinking of having?” Louis asks, changing the subject and shooting Harry a look that says ‘calm the fuck down’, but Harry can’t calm down. He has a raging hard on, a mysteriously vibrating plug in his ass, and two absurdly attractive men sitting at table with him, that is the antonym of the word calm.

“Something big and juicy,” Harry says, saying the words directly to Ashton, a slight moan in his tone. “A steak perhaps. How about you, babe? See anything you fancy?” Ding. Ding. Another two points to Harry.

“I was thinking something on the rich and creamy side. Maybe the tortellini carbonara,” Louis responds, not looking up from his menu. Harry watches as Louis places his arm under the table. Not five seconds later, the plug starts vibrating again, stronger this time. Harry closes his eyes, and bites his lip to stop himself from moaning. He knows he is gripping the menu too tightly, but it is the only thing holding him to Earth right now.

“You okay?” Ashton’s voice breaks into his subconscious not helping matters. Ashton’s voice is an interesting mixture of sexy and intriguing, and his accent is doing funny things to Harry, which is not being helped by the intense vibrations in his asshole.

He noticed it when he first struck up conversation with Louis, and he’s been trying to work out what nationality Ashton even is ever since. He could be American, but he sounds too well spoken. He could be English, and yet not well spoken enough. Add in some odd phrases and slang words Harry hasn’t even heard before, and it’s safe to say he is thoroughly confused. But back to what really matters. His asshole feels like it may launch into space in the next ten seconds and that fucking voice. It isn’t as low as Harry’s own voice, but it isn’t as high and raspy as Louis’. It’s almost as if the Gods have taken the best parts of his voice and the best parts of Louis’ and smashed them together in all its fucking melodic glory.

“Yeah. I’m umm…” Harry pauses, trying to think of a witty reply, but his balls are still vibrating even though Louis mercifully turned it off. “It’s just been an amazing day, and I’m excited about our tattoos after. I’m on the edge of my seat.” What he wasn’t about to tell him was that he was on the edge of his seat because if Louis made the plug vibrate once more he’d probably fucking die.

“Oh, yeah. Haz is correct. It’s been an amazing day, however, it has also been long and hard,” Louis quips, and fuck, point for Louis. Harry hopes Louis is keeping score because his mind is now an whirring buzz of overloaded sensations and orgasm inducing voices, and they said there would be no math!

“So, umm--- Ash, where are you from?” Harry asks, because he has got to know. Ashton’s accent is killing him, and if he doesn't find out the source of it, he may actually die. At his question, Ashton laughs. The fucking nerve of him! As if his normal speaking voice wasn’t sexy enough, he had to go and add a laugh like pure fucking sunshine on top of it. Suddenly Harry doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, and is Louis rubbing his back right now? Fuck. He may actually die before this dinner is over.

“I was born in Australia, lived in Sydney ‘till I was about 16 then lived here for a year or so. Lived  in LA for the most part though. Couple of years ago, I moved here to London because a friend asked me to work at his shop. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, so here I am, and that’s why my accent is total bollocks,” Ashton explains, wide smile lighting up his face revealing straight white teeth. It’s devastating really. Right as Harry begins to swoon, the plug starts vibrating again as if on cue. Damn Louis and his jealousy. Louis is definitely on board with this mission ‘let's make the straight boy gay’, that much Harry knows.

“Can I take your order?” a waiter asks, a tight smile on his face when he takes in the three men’s appearance. He can see the look of anger flash across Louis’ face, and thank the heavens the vibrations go away again.  

“I don’t know, can you?” Louis quips back, and oh shit. Here he goes again.

“I’m sorry, _Sir_ , but I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“No, didn’t think you would. Now, are you going to take mine, my stunning boyfriend and our guest’s order or do I need to make a complaint to the owner for your less than stellar service? I know him personally. Ta’ooed a picture of his son on his leg a few months back. Nice bloke.” Fuck he is so hot when he gets like this, and Harry feels like he may cry with it all. He’s in sensory overload, and he may just have to come up with some more anniversaries for them to have if they are all going to be as amazing as this one. Happy That-Time-I-Bought-You-Your-Favourite-Cereal-iversary is a thing surely. Hallmark has to make a card for it. They make a card for every other made up holiday like Valentine’s day. Well at least Louis claims it’s made up, but Harry thinks it’s because he wanted to get out of buying him that engagement ring he’s been eyeing off for a years now. Three to be exact.

“My apologies,” the waiter stutters out, taking a step back and bowing his head. Good. “What can I get for you this evening?”

A few minutes later their meals have been successfully ordered, Harry opting out of choosing anything with an overabundance of sauce, not knowing when the next time will be that Louis chooses to resume his stealthy torture techniques and there is no way he is ruining this shirt. It’s his favourite, and it’s Gucci. Although, the thought of Louis and Ashton licking sauce from the exposed section of his chest does have its merits.

“So, Ashton. It sounds like you’ve moved around quite a bit. Must be _hard_ being away from you family for such a _long_ time.” Harry knows it’s weak since Louis has already made a hard and long comment, but he can’t help it. His brain is starting to go into the place where everything is floaty, and he feels like he is flying.  

“Yeah, I miss my family, but I’ve always enjoyed traveling. I see them as much as I can, and we have modern technology to keep in touch,” Ashton responds, and Harry is pretty sure Ashton has no idea what is actually going on. Harry barely knows what’s going at  the current moment, and he is involved. Harry is also certain his definition of ‘modern technology’ and Ashton’s are drastically different things. He is of course currently sitting on his, and he doubts Ashton and his family indulge in those kinds of activities together. Harry would, however, love to introduce Ashton to the activities he and Louis indulge in together.

They talk a bit more about Ashton’s family and a little bit of everything else, the stupid fucking torture device Harry has been referring to as the pulsating ass cork staying mostly still between his cheeks, as they make their way through dinner. He and Louis both manage to keep their game of who can get the most innuendos going through out. Harry isn’t sure who is winning, but Louis must not hate him completely, since he only seems to turn it on when Harry is giving Ashton a bit too much attention, which only makes Harry want to do it more. He’s not always a good boy.

They keep their wine intake to a minimum, since they will be giving each other tattoos shortly, not to mention the torturous drive home. The more Harry learns about Ashton, the more solidified he is in their decision to seduce him. He is sarcastic, a lot like Louis, and devastatingly gorgeous. This point had been further solidified when he had removed his leather jacket half way through their meal. Did he have a licence to carry concealed weapons? Because he was definitely packing, in all the right places, and Harry covered the fact that he was openly drooling with a well timed dab of his napkin.

“So Ash, are you coming with us at, I mean, to our place?” Harry asks licking the caramel from their dessert off his fingers then placing a large hand on Ashton’s bicep. Louis decides then would be the perfect moment to turn on the damn plug. Harry squeezes Ash’s bicep a bit too hard, digging his fingers in and moans softly. Fuck. Ashton definitely heard it, but instead of being freaked out his eyes are dark, pink lip trapped between his teeth.

“Now, Harry, careful. You wouldn’t want to get Ash all sticky,” Louis tells him, looking pointedly at Harry’s hand.

“You’re right, love. That’s his job. Anyways, are you coming?” Harry goes back to the original question, feeling proud that regardless of how fucked up he is, he can still get a joke and an innuendo into the conversation. Yay him.  

“Yeah. Don’t want to let you fuck up Louis’ tattoo, so I would love to come.” Ashton winks with a grin, glancing down at Harry’s hand where it is still squeezing his ridiculously large bicep. In that moment, Harry thinks he has morphed into Dick Van Dyke because Ashton is truly scrumptious. Harry releases his grip slightly as he adjusts to the sensations in his ass, but deliberately lets his fingertips trail down the length of Ashton’s arm before he completely breaks the contact. “I just need to go to the loo before we leave.” Harry nods silently, and Ashton gets up from their table. He hates to let him go but fuck does he love to watch him leave. He almost wants to get up and follow him and suck him off in the bathroom for good measure, but he refrains. There’s plenty of time for that later. The night is still young, as they say.

“Having fun?” Louis asks as soon as Ashton is out of earshot. He brings his phone up to the table, and with a fucking smirk taps the screen causing Harry’s little friend to vibrate with more intensity than it has all night. Fuck. That little shit. He has been controlling the damn thing from an app on his phone all fucking night. Harry had thought it was a remote, but he shouldn’t be surprised with, how did Ashton put it, oh yeah, ‘modern technology’ showing up to fuck him. Literally.

“Loads,” Harry responds around a moan, quite proud of himself for his response despite the fact that he has been edged for the better part of three hours.

“Oh, I do hope that is merely a figure of speech my love. I’d hate to have to punish you.” Louis breathes the words directly into Harry’s ear before biting down on his earlobe. To anyone looking at the exchange, it would appear as though Louis was simply leaning in to whisper in Harry’s ear, and he can feel it when every hair on his body stands up in response. Fuck.

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry moans, and he doesn't give two fucks who can hear them. He is so close, and Louis must sense it, being in tune with his body since the first day in the tattoo shop, because he taps his phone again, effectively stopping the orgasm inducing vibrations. Harry sighs in relief, not being able to stop his mind from dreaming of lovely things like cocks, come, and what Ashton’s asshole tastes like. It’s one Australian delicacy Harry would be more than happy to taste. He is so close. Fuck. He doesn’t know if he can contain it much longer. He isn’t even sure how he has managed this long, but he has to be a good boy. He mustn’t come without permission.

“Ready to go?” Ashton asks, coming back to the table. Harry just blinks at him, because yes, he is in fact ready to go. Ready to go and ride Louis’ cock. Ready to go and suck Ashton’s soul out through his dick. He is ready to go and do a lot of things at the present moment, shooting a hot load over the pair of them being number one on his to do list, but he doesn’t think he will be doing any of the aforementioned any time soon. He still has to sit through a tattoo. Fuck.


	2. National State of Erection and Polar Bear Piss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashton follows Louis and Harry back to their home, but things get interesting once the tattooing begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who is reading this currently! We love every single one of you. Be warned, there is a shit ton of Aussie slang in this chapter! It is also crackhead larry level humor... well we hope. Enjoy!

What the fuck was he thinking? Louis and Harry seemed to be communicating telepathically throughout the entirety of dinner, and now Ashton was going to their home with them? Harry looked completely fucked out through the whole thing, and he is pretty sure he had been flirting with him all night. Flirting with him in front of his significant other, on their anniversary, at their anniversary dinner no less. Ashton feels like he is in the twilight zone or something, yet here he is, watching as Louis and Harry park their car, pulling his car to a stop behind them. Louis gets out of the drivers side and runs over, helping Harry step out of the passenger side, kissing his hand once he is steady. The real question is, why does Harry need to be steadied? Ashton feels like he is missing something. Something that could drastically change the course of his evening. 

“Oii, oii,” Louis yells when Ashton parks his car, getting out quickly. Ashton waves in response then Harry smiles at him, dimples popping and fuck. No wonder Louis fell for the green eyed, curly headed boy so quickly. Ashton has never thought of himself as gay or bisexual or whatever, but he can definitely appreciate a sexy man when sees one, and both Louis and Harry fit into that category. Both men are covered in tattoos, which Ashton tends to like in his women, but there is just something about them. He can’t put his finger on it. 

“Ready to come inside?” Louis asks, snapping Ashton out of his musings. Ashton feels like he is missing something again when Harry smiles at the comment and whispers something in Louis’ ear. Now that he comes to think about it, it isn’t the first time it’s happened tonight, and he suddenly has more questions than answers. If nothing else, he knows tonight will be far from boring with these two around.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” He returns Harry’s smile and follows them inside, grateful, not for the first time that night, that the men did not let his night be ruined by being stood up. It was the first date he’d had since he moved back to London a few months ago, so when she had stood him up, he was a bit hurt and disappointed. He couldn’t believe Harry and Louis had even asked him to join them during their anniversary dinner, but he was happy that he didn’t have to be alone tonight. Harry and Louis don’t seem at all bothered by his being there. They move aside to let Ashton fully into the house. 

They are in a small, sparsely decorated hallway, and Louis flips on the lights to his left as he leads the way into the relatively spacious living room, everything now bathed in a warm, golden glow. Harry follows the motion of Louis’ hips with his eyes as he walks, and Ashton can’t help but stare either. If he wasn’t an ass man before, then he certainly is now, because Louis may just have the most devine ass he’s ever seen. He manages to take his eyes off of Louis’ ass long enough to note that despite both boys’ outward appearance, their home is on the smaller side, filled with squishy looking sofas Ashton knows he will sink deep into when he sits down. The walls are a neutral cream, the sofas and drapes a deep burgundy and gold combo, and it's all so aesthetically pleasing, contrasting with the dark chocolate flooring beneath his feet.

Small lamps, candles and endless photographs litter the surface of almost every side table and mantle in sight, making the entire place feels cozy and lived in, and it kind of reminds him of his childhood home. He can't help the smile on his face as he takes it all in. The room also smells delicious, like sugar cookies, or cinnamon buns or something equally scrumptious, and, in that moment, he decides that he has made the right decision to come home with them despite their borderline weird behaviour. 

“So umm…” Ashton is suddenly feeling awkward. He runs his fingers through his sandy blonde curls, not being bothered when they pull at a knot that has formed. “Were you gonna do the tattoos here in the living room or…?”

“Actually we were planning in the bedroom, but the living room is great too,” Louis responds, and okay, that’s strange. Why would they want to do a tattoo in the bedroom? That doesn't sound very sanitary or comfortable. Ashton decides he will just add it to his mental list of ‘bizzare things Larry have done tonight’. Yes, he decided he will just refer to them as ‘Larry’ in his head because ‘Harry and Louis’ is time consuming and a fucking chore. 

“Sweet,” Ashton responds, shoving his hands in his pockets because he is suddenly very unsure of what to do with them. He knows he kind of wants to use them to trace Louis’ high cheekbones or thumb Harry’s dark red bottom lip, but those are crazy thoughts. Ashton must be going insane from the lack of pussy in his life. Louis is looking down at his phone, and Ashton thinks he just heard a moan from Harry. What the fuck is going on? Harry moaning is doing weird things to him. He is pretty sure he heard it over dinner, but thought he was just hearing things or that maybe it was coming from another table. Now though, there is no denying that the sound is coming from Harry’s sinful lips. His dick twitches in his jeans in response. Fucking hell, how is he going to make it through the night? He needs to talk. Right. Talking. “Who is going first?” 

“I think it will be better if I go first. Haz tends to get-- um-- distracted after his tattoos,” Louis replies, and what a weird word to use. Ashton glances over at Harry who just beams at him, nodding as if it is a well known fact. Like London rains a lot, or Theresa May is the worst thing to happen to Britain since sliced bread, or that ‘Who is the current Prime Minister?’ isn’t used in Australia to determine if someone is coherent or not, because hey, only another three to go before Christmas. Now it’s Harry gets distracted after a tattoo. Yep. Perfectly normal things to know. He thinks then that maybe the lack of sunshine has muddled their brains a bit, and he thanks the Gods of Meat Pies and Toohey’s New that he grew up in the land down under, brain and Vitamin D count firmly intact. 

“Right. What are you guys chasing?” Ashton asks, needing to distract himself. He just can’t keep his eyes from venturing towards Harry. Something about him is… off. For lack of a better word. Ashton had never met him before tonight, but his eyes are glassy, his curls are a mess, and he is squirming on the spot, bobbing from one long leg to the other. Ashton wants to ask, but he is sure he isn’t ready for the explanation. He would much rather start supporting Queensland in The State of Origin than find out why Harry looks as though he has literal ants in his pants, and there's Buckley’s and none chance of that ever happening. He thinks that whatever is in Harry’s pants has nothing to do with ants, that’s for sure. 

“What’s chasing?” Harry asks dark brows drawn in confusion. It is kind of adorable, but Ashton can’t think about that at the current moment. Harry asked him a question. His words are slow and measured, his puffy lips forming around each syllable perfectly. Ashton briefly imagines what that mouth would look like forming around other things. No. He can’t. Harry is Louis’ mister, which means he is off limits. Ashton isn’t scared of many people, but Louis would fucking murder him in the most unpleasant of ways if he so much as touches a curl on Harry’s pretty little head. He is probably imagining all the ways he is going to murder him now, since Harry kept flirting with him through dinner. Perhaps tearing his nuts of like a piece of paper towel or hanging his castrated dick above the doorway to ward off anyone else who decides going after Harry is a grand fucking plan. He doesn’t even think he could come up with the scenarios Louis is currently imaging. Oh fuck. Harry is looking at him expectantly. What was the question again? Oh right. His fucked up Aussie way of shortening words and sentences to the smallest amount of effort possible because fuck using whole sentences when you can communicate with a few nods of the head and a well placed ‘on ya mate!’ Got it. Good. He can answer that. 

“Sorry, mate. I meant what are you after? Like, what do you wanna get done?” Ashton supplies, smiling at Harry because  _ fuck  _ he can’t help it. 

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry begins, and Ashton thinks he that he may just keep confusing Harry all night with Aussie slang if it means he gets to hear his slow, rumbling voice more. “I love your accent by the way. I could listen to you speak all day,” Harry continues, reaching out one giant hand to rub down Ashton’s arm. He squeezes when he gets to his tattooed forearm, eyes closed, and mouth forming a silent ‘o’. Just as quickly as the look comes, it goes, and Ashton is wondering what the fuck just happened. He could have been imagining it. That has to be it. Imagining it. Yes. That’s right. He is staying firmly in the ‘that didn’t fucking happen’ lane, thank you very much. 

“I am getting a rope looped into the shape of an infinity symbol, while Harold here is getting an anchor,” Louis answers, glaring at Harry. Whatever is going on between them, Ashton does not want to be in the middle. Well, on second thought, maybe he does. What the fuck is happening? He has never in his life even entertained the thought of being in the middle of two ridiculously hot guys, but here he is wanting to be the centre of Larry Sausage Fest 2017. He honestly doesn’t even really hate the idea. Not even a little bit. Brilliant, just bloody brilliant, now he wants a Bunnings snag, and this night just keeps getting better and fucking better.

“That sounds ridiculously puke worthy, I may need a bucket if you two keep this cutesy couples shit up all night,” Ashton jokes, smiling at Louis. Louis rolls his eyes probably because he was expecting the comment. He and Louis have very similar senses of humor, probably why they hit it off so well. 

“We would rather keep something else up all night,” Harry interjects, and what is it with all of these fucking innuendos?  Is it a competition or something? It probably fucking is knowing these two. He knows for a fact that Louis is competitive by nature. In fact, the first time they had met, they made a bet on who would be asked to do the most tattoos at the expo, and, of course, Louis won. Ashton still thinks he cheated, but he has no way of actually proving it. Ashton decides that he wants to play, too, because fuck it. He has nothing to lose, except maybe his balls if Louis takes it the wrong way. He isn’t using the damn things anyway as of late, so he may as well fucking go for it. 

“Nice. I like people with stamina,” Ashton responds finally, smirking at the other two men. Harry looks like he may jizz in his pants at a moments notice, and Louis is just smiling back, a mischievous glint in his eye. Fuck. Louis’ eyes are the most intense blue colour, and Ashton suddenly feels like he wants to drown in them. They don't even have to try, and Ashton feels like he should be calling Louis  ‘Daddy’ and begging for forgiveness. No wonder Harry is a perpetual hot mess.

“Only if you can keep up,” Louis says, then walks into the kitchen. “Want anything to drink? No alcohol until you finish my tattoo.” 

“No worries, water is fine mate,” Ashton responds, then freezes when he realises he is now very much alone with Harry. Oh shit. Ashton is not ready for this. Harry is looking at him as if he is a fat kid staring down the last slice of Woolies chocolate mud cake at skinny Dazza’s fifth birthday party. His eyes are dark, his plump bottom lip is between his teeth, again, and wait. Is that the outline of his cock in his obscenely tight jeans? Oh fuck. Ashton needs to look away, but the effort to do so may as well be the same amount as lifting the Sydney Opera House on his fucking back. He knows he is slightly too tipsy to be called sober, and really in need of a good fuck because his Aussie is out in full force tonight. He normally tries to hide it a bit, so people don’t constantly ask him questions about where he is from or why his accent is a mixed jumble of words and sounds, but Harry loves it. As of this moment, if Harry loves it, then so does he because he thinks at this point we would do just about anything for Harry to keep looking at him like he wants to devour him. 

“You right mate?” Ashton asks, because that is all he can think to ask. He probably shouldn’t have because he was just thinking that he doesn't actually want to know, but now it is out there. Harry looks like he is taking a moment to process the question, and Ashton hopes that his choice of phrashing hasn’t made him appear rude. He genuinely hopes that Harry is okay, truly, he just isn't sure he wants Harry to answer his question out loud.  Or, at least he thinks he doesn’t. Harry’s sinful lip and the way he is holding it between his teeth is all very distracting and confusing, and Ashton feels like he can’t think straight. Ha, straight. Is he even straight anymore? Was he ever? He is making heart eyes and drooling over Harry and well, Louis isn’t short of a look or two. Straight men don’t hit on their friends and their boyfriends on their  _ anniversary  _ of all days, do they? Fuck. He hopes so. 

Ashton can actually see Harry’s brain trying to process the question, the words moving throughout the cogs behind his glassy eyes. Fuck. Ashton really needs to stop making eye contact. He doesn't know how much longer he can take this without all the blood in his body rushing south of his belt line. His jeans are far too tight for him to be able to conceal a hard on, but he wouldn’t be the only one in the room with the issue given the bulge in Harry’s own jeans.

He, for a brief moment, allows himself to imagine what Harry’s cock would look like. He may be straight,  _ may be  _ being the operative words, but he is no stranger to cock. He has watched his fair share of porn and has been in many a changing room, but he has never  _ wanted  _ to know what someone’s cock looked like. Now, he finds that he very much wants to know what Harry’s would look like. Would he have a thick blue vein on the underside? Would the skin be smooth to the touch? He wonders what it would feel like resting, hot and heavy on his tongue. He also wonders what kind of filthy sounds he could pull from Harry, using his mouth and tongue bar alone. Could he make Harry come that way? Fuck, he really wants to find out. No. Stop. He needs to fucking stop.

His imagination is running wild, and he really needs a root. Badly. He’s been stood up or knocked back by the last three girls he’s gone on dates with, and he’s starting to think that cock is where the party is at. Hell, all of the blood has seemingly vanished from his brain and into his cock anyway, may as well put it to good use. No. No. He needs to calm the fuck down. What the hell is he thinking? He doesn’t like cock, or balls or come. He can’t even stand the feeling of his own come on his skin. He suddenly feels very warm, and very hard and he needs to sit down. 

“Oh. I’m just fine. I’ll be even better soon, hopefully,” Harry drawls in that slow monotone that is making Ashton’s brain fuzzy. What the fuck does he mean by soon? What is going to happen to make Harry better? Ashton isn’t sure how he could get much better. 

He has never been a religious man, but something about Harry makes him want to drop to his knees and worship him. Or Drop to his knees and do something else entirely. Harry squirms a bit, making the thick outline of his cock that much more noticeable. Ashton barely suppresses a groan. Where the fuck is Louis? He needs Louis? He needs a fucking buffer or he may do something that will get him killed or worse… well he doesn't know what a fate worse than death would be. Maybe being banished to a land of no sex, where perpetual blue balls is the way of life and everyday is a National State of Erection. They wouldn’t even need a flag pole, they could just use his dick. That seems like a fate worse than death. 

Harry is looking at him again, the silence in the room almost feels suffocating. Suffocation. Now there’s an idea. He could just suffocate himself to death, so he won’t have to keep looking at Harry’s fuck me eyes or his cock. Fuck, why is he still looking at his cock? Where the fuck is Louis? Seriously how long does it take to get a bottle of water? Did he go to The Arctic Circle and melt some polar ice caps or something? He much prefers his water without Polar Bear piss, thank you very much. Wait, is it his turn to talk? What the fuck should he say? The only words in his head are ‘cock’, ‘fuck’, and ‘yes, Harry just like that’. He is pretty sure those aren’t appropriate conversational topics. 

“Here’s the water.” Louis’  says, his raspy voice breaking through his haze, and thank sweet baby Jesus and all other incarnation that Louis is back in the room. Louis, the man who would murder him if he knew Ashton was so much as thinking about Harry’s full lips or his pert bum. Yes, concentrate on not getting murdered, that will help. Maybe. It sure as shit hasn’t helped thus far. 

“Thanks, mate,” Ashton says taking the water bottle, their hands brushing on the cold, wet plastic surface, sending another spark straight through his spine and into his balls. His poor fucking balls. His voice sounds strange even to his own ears. Shit. He really hopes they can’t tell how fucking much he wants Larry or operation ‘Escape National State of Erection’ will be up shit creek without a paddle. 

“Ready to get started?” Louis asks, fixing him with blue eyes as if he is studying him. It makes Ashton want to squirm, much like Harry is currently doing across from him. All Ashton can think is  _ yes, daddy, I am _ , and where the fuck did that come from? Ashton has never in his life wanted to call another man ‘daddy’, but right now it seems like the appropriate term for Louis fucking Tomlinson. He shakes his head, attempting to clear it up a bit. 

“Yeah. Where is your equipment and all of that jizz-- I mean jazz?” Ashton quickly corrects, face heating with the slip up. Jesus, he is around these men for a few hours, and they have him blushing like a schoolgirl. He needs to get it together. His brain needs to get out of the gutter and onto the footpath where ordinary humans roam with soft cocks and nice, normal, boring partners. Isn’t there a Disney song about that shit? Something about legs, and people walking on streets? Because suddenly he feels like his knees are being knocked out from under him, and he’d happily sell his soul to some wannabe, drag queen, sea witch if it meant that Harry’s cock was laying claim to his mouth. Fuck. He’s gone. Done for. May the Gods bless his poor unfortunate soul. Poor Unfortunate Souls, that is definitely a disney song. 

“I liked the first word better,” Harry says, smirking. It takes far too long to process Harry’s comment and even longer to tell himself it is harmless. Harry is surely just joking. Playing around. Who wouldn’t like jizz? Wait, what? He doesn't really like jizz, does he? Fuck. He doesn’t even remember his own fucking name at this point, never mind whether or not he likes come. He doesn’t like his own come, but maybe Harry’s is some kind of magical unicorn come that tastes like candy floss and rain drops straight from the heavens and fucking sunshine. He would drown in that shit like Jack drowns at the end of that terrible movie about a huge fucking boat. 

“It’s in the bedroom. I’ll just go grab it,” Louis says, motioning toward the room. Fuck it. Now he’s going to be left alone with Harry I-have-a-very-hard-pretty-cock-and-I-want-to-fucking-devour-you Styles.  _ Again _ . He almost screams ‘no’ in a very dramatic way, like when Cady Heron broke the fucking homecoming queen crown, but he clamps his mouth shut. Fuck, now he is thinking about nipple clamps. Since fucking when does he think about nipple clamps? He doesn’t even think he’s ever seen a nipple clamp in real life let alone used one. What the hell are they doing to him? This is surely some creepy Larry mind control bullshit. Strangely enough, he’s kind of living for it. 

“O--okay,” Ashton responds, and it’s a bit too late seeing as Louis is already making his way down the dark hallway and into the bedroom. Ashton follows the sway of his ass as he walks, enjoying the way the firm globes bounce a bit when he goes up on the balls of his feet. Fuck. Now he’s eye fucking Louis. What has gotten into him? Nothing. That’s what, and nothing ever has. But he does have a few ideas on what he wishes had gotten into him.  

“He does have a lovely arse, doesn’t he?” Harry’s voice is slow and measured, almost as if he has to really concentrate to get the words out. Ashton’s head snaps away from their bedroom door, imagining what kind of shit is in there, to look at Harry. Harry looks about the same, fucked out and squirmy. He now has a light sheen of sweet on his skin, and Ashton thinks that something is definitely up. Well, besides the obvious. 

“What? Umm-- I wasn’t--” Ashton’s sentence trails off when Harry gives him a knowing look. Fuck. The lie doesn’t even sound good to his own ears, but what the fuck was he supposed to say? Yeah, your boyfriend has a great arse, perfect for biting, licking or coming on, maybe all three, in that order. He is pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well with Harry. What would go over Harry well, however, is a hot load of his come and fuck it. Why can’t he stop thinking about Harry and come and any combination of the two? 

“It’s fine, Ash.” Ashton almost comes in his jeans when the nickname slips from Harry’s kiss bitten lips. No one has really even kissed him tonight. That is just from him chewing on them, so he wonders how much more red they would be if he were being kissed. Fuck. “Louis and I are a bit more-- um-- open, than other couples.” Open? What the fuck does that mean? Ashton is sure he knows the actual definition of open, but he wants to grab his phone and Webster dictionary that shit because it can’t mean what he thinks it means. 

“Here we go,” Louis says coming out of the bedroom. Thank fuck he is saved from more of that conversation by Louis. He could kiss him for it. Louis’ lips would probably be firm under his own, his stubble slightly scratchy. What the fuck? This is beyond a joke now. Not only did he intrude on their anniversary dinner, Harry has looked as though he’s on the verge of coming in his pants all night and both of them keep making sexual innuendos. He’s now in their living room with a very turned on and downright obscene looking Harry, and he’s spent the last, he doesn't even know how long, imagining what it would be like to suck Harry’s cock and turn Louis’ ass a delicious shade of red. In what fucking realm is he a straight man? Sure as shit isn’t this one. That much he does know. Right now he is in the Realm of Larry, where the sky is green and the grass is blue, everything adds up to 28, and birds have eyebrows. 

“Wanna give me a hand?” Louis asks looking down at his very full arms, and yes. The answer is yes, Ashton does want to give him a hand. Hell, at this point, he would also give him his mouth and his cock and his come, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he rushes over to Louis, taking some of the items out of his tattooed arms, doing his best not to brush his tan skin. However, he wants to, he really fucking wants to. He wants to touch it and taste it and cover it in his come, and he needs to do this fucking tattoo to give himself something else to focus on. Hopefully in that time his raging hard on will die down. Louis smiles at him thankfully as he relieves some of his load. Fuck. There’s an idea. Relieving some of his load. Maybe he could sneak to the bathroom. Surely this house has a bathroom right? Knowing his current luck, he will walk into some kind of sex room full of items Ashton has only seen in his dreams and porn. 

Harry sits down slowly on one of the cushy sofas while Louis and Ashton begin to set up the equipment. Ashton isn’t sure why Harry has sat down so carefully, but pushes the thought to the side when Louis hands him the paper towel roll. He is looking around at all of Louis’ equipment, trying to concentrate on the items and familiarize himself with them. Everything seems pretty standard, and he has used or owns most of what is set out in front of him. What he does notice however is that the saddle stool that Louis is wheeling out of their room is covered in cling wrap. He’s never felt the need to cover his stools, but he supposes that it makes for easier clean ups or whatever Louis’ reasoning for that is. He shakes that thought away as Louis speaks to him, and he’s only half listening.

“Alright. We’re gonna do mine first. Harry wants to do a small section, if that’s okay. He knows how to do tattoos and such, has done a few on me before, but nothing so intricate,” Louis tells him, motioning towards Harry. Ashton isn’t sure he would trust Harry with a tattoo machine currently. The boy is still squirming, and his hands have a slight shake to them. That would be a dangerous game, but Ashton feels as though he has been flung into a dangerous game from the very beginning of his time with the two men. 

“What are you going to get and where?” Ashton asks, straddling the stool, causing his tight jeans to squeeze his still hard dick. He really hopes that Louis says something small and in a place that doesn’t mean that he has to expose too much skin, because he may just fucking jizz in said tight jeans if he doesn’t. Wait, didn't he already ask this? Didn’t Louis already tell him? Fuck. His brain is seriously not working properly. It feels fuzzy and unfocused, so repeating questions is clearly a thing for him now. Oh well, he can just blame it on being thorough and not because he’s too busy thinking about how he’d happily let the pair of them fuck him like a rotisserie. He closes his eyes, barely stopping a moan from escaping. His poor neglected cock. He is going to have to treat it to some TLC tonight when he gets home. Maybe get some lube and the good porn. Maybe even find some with two blokes, since apparently he is into that shit now. 

“I’m gonna get Harry’s name on my dick,” Louis deadpans. Ashton isn’t able to cover up the shock on his face, his hazel eyes are wide, firm lips shaped into a small ‘o’. He is almost sure that is not what Louis had answered before. He racks his muddled brain trying to think of what Louis had told him before, but comes up with nothing other than the intense need to come. Louis has to be fucking with him right? Gods he wishes Louis was fucking him in someway. Where the fuck did that come from? Come. Gods, he needs to stop. “Calm down, lad. I’m just joking. I am going to get a rope, and Harry is going to get an anchor, both on the wrist.” 

“Oh,” Ashton says, snapping out of his impromptu fantasy of having Louis’ dick in his ass. “That’s ridiculously sappy.” There, he covered it. The whole conversation feels strangely like deja vu. Have they done this before? Is this just part of the Realm of Larry because he is no longer in the Twilight Zone? He left that place in the driveway. That place made sense compared to this. 

“Fuck off, Ash, we know, you already said that,” Louis laughs, holding up a stencil that depicts a rope in the shape of an infinity symbol. Okay. It is really fucking sweet. At least, they wouldn’t be matching, but complimenting each other. Ashton likes that a lot better than matching. He hates it when couples come into his shop asking for matching couples tattoos. He knows they will be broken up within the hour because the guy couldn’t keep his dick in his pants or the girl decided to become a waitress at Hooters. He didn’t get that feeling with Harry and Louis, though. Honestly, he couldn’t imagine two people more perfect for each other. If they want to mark their love on their own bodies, who was Ashton to say otherwise? They’ve done it before. 

“Fuck off on what?” Ashton asks because he can’t help himself. It seems that this innuendo thing is a game they are playing, and he wants to play too. He wants in on the game. He wants in Harry, and he wants Louis in him. It seems he wants in a lot of things. 

“We will get to that later,” Louis responds, and did he just wink? This throws Ashton for six because he just got used to Harry flirting. Now he is going to have to deal with Louis. How the fuck is he going to survive this? Right now he has a snowflake's chance in hell of surviving these two, and oddly enough he doesn't even care. Welcomes it even. He just wishes that one of them would do something. Kiss him, touch him. Something. Something to reassure him that this isn’t all in his head, and he’s not going insane. Insanity doesn’t sound too bad at the current moment though, as long as Harry keeps looking at him like that, and Louis keeps winking with that mischievous smirk of his. 

Ashton stays quiet as he puts on a pair of black gloves Louis has brought out with him. Great. Perfect. Something to separate his skin from Louis’. He isn’t sure he wants that though, but it will certainly help his raging hard on that doesn’t seem to want to go down. More like it wants someone to go down on it instead. He notices that Louis’ wrist is already shaved, so at least he doesn’t have to do that. The tan skin is smooth, and Ashton kind of wants to lick it to see what it would taste like. To taste the already existing tattoos there with his fucking tongue. Fuck. Focus. What was he doing? Oh right, he was going to spray solution on Louis’ lickable skin to clean the area. 

He quickly does just that, then, with slightly shaking hands, applies the stencil. If Louis notices his less than steady hands, he doesn’t comment. Just admires the placement and gives Ashton a nod to continue on with the tattoo process. Thank the gods Ashton has done this so much, because at this point he needs the muscle memory since he can’t seem to fucking concentrate. Louis barely flinches when he takes the needle to his skin, making sure lines. He is proud of himself for that. He was afraid of fucking it up. The tattoo in and of itself shouldn’t take too long. 

“That’s the part Harry wants to do,” Louis tells him, a little over half an hour later. He looks down at Louis’ wrist and notices then, that the middle section of the tattoo kind of looks like a ‘H’ if he looks at it sideways. They really are  _ that  _ couple, and Ashton can’t bring himself to tease them or question it. If anything he is slightly jealous of what they have. If he could have a fraction of the love they have for each other, he’d be happy. Ecstatic even. 

“No, worries. The middle section isn't too detailed, and I’ve done most of the line work there. Just some shading to go, and we should be nearly done. You right to do the shading, Harry?” Ashton responds, looking over his shoulder to where Harry is sitting for the first time since he began the tattoo. Harry still looks fucked out with blown pupils. His curls are even messier, as if he has been running his long fingers through them frequently. He squirms a bit when Ashton makes eye contact, like he can’t find a comfortable position. 

“Yeah. I think I can manage that,” Harry says, and he sounds almost breathless, like he is struggling to get enough air into his lungs. Ashton wonders briefly if Harry is okay. If maybe he is ill or something, but he pushes the thought aside as Harry gets up from the sofa and slowly makes his way over to them. His movements much like his speaking voice are slow and measured, as if he is thinking about them before actively doing them.  

Ashton makes to stand and allow Harry to take his stool, but Harry lays one large hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto it. It’s the fastest the other man has moved all night. Ashton is confused. Isn’t this the part where Harry does the tattooing? He makes to open his mouth and question Harry’s motives, but his silent question is answered when Harry simply straddles him, his long, toned legs draped over his own, his pert bum positioned directly over his cock and fuck. His hard on, which at this point had finally gone away, is now back with a vengeance. Harry’s muscled back is now pressed squarely against his chest and Ashton can feel it when Harry moves to grab the machine. His hands are shaky, and Ashton is a tad worried. 

He barely suppresses a moan when Harry repositions himself, his firm bum sinking even further into the region of Ashton’s crotch. Harry definitely feels his hard on. There is no doubt about it. He has to at this point. Harry is practically sitting on his dick. He curses the clothes between their bodies. Who’s idea was it for them to wear clothes anyways? Why is that a societal rule? Didn’t it all come down to an apple or some shit? Well fuck apples because clothes are fucking useless. They only get in the way. 

“His hand shakes sometimes when he does this, do you wanna help him out?” Louis’ voices breaks through Ashton’s internal turmoil. He shakes his head a bit, and cranes his neck to look around Harry’s body, finding Louis with a sly smile. Why is he smiling? His boyfriend is sitting on another man’s lap. Why on earth would anyone be smiling in this situation? Louis is definitely smiling though, blue eyes gleaming in the light. 

“Help him?” Ashton says, because he has no idea what Louis means by that. He can think of about three thousand and six ways he could be ‘helping’ Harry right now and none of them involve tattooing in the slightest. 

“Yeah. Put your hand over his. Guide him along.” Guide him. Yeah. Ashton can do that. He can guide him like a fucking pro. He would much prefer guiding his lips to his own raging erection, but this will have to do. Fuck. That means Ashton will have to touch his big hand. He is going to need therapy after this because he is sure he is going to spend too many sleepless nights, and even more lazy days wanking himself off to thoughts of Harry’s hands and the way the veins stick out depending on which way he moves his unfairly long fingers. Fuck. Just fuck. 

“Yeah. I can do that,” Ashton says, more to himself than to Louis. He can. He can do this. He’s like the fucking little engine that could. Ashton takes off his gloves because his hands are sweating, and they don’t seem to mind being unsanitary at this point. Just as he wraps his hand around Harry’s larger one, he sees Louis tap something on his phone screen, and what the fuck? Did Harry’s ass just… vibrate? He has to be imagining it. He must also be imagining the way Harry moans deep and low in his chest and the way he grinds his ass on Ashton’s hard cock. That has to be it. Just a figment of his imagination. He is a fucking imagineer. May as well ship his ass to Disneyland because he has imagination for days. He’s not sure how Disney would respond to suggestions of a hot prince with green eyes that match no other shade and a mane of chocolate curls that likes to eat out the ass of his stable boy, but oh well. He can dream. Maybe he’s just dreaming right now. It is the only plausible explanation for what the fuck is currently happening. 

Ashton doesn’t say anything else, mostly because he doesn’t trust his voice as he slowly steps down on the foot pedal twice, brining the tattoo machine back to life. He’s kind of thankful that Louis has state of the art equipment and not the old ass tattoo machines they learnt their craft on, because if he’d had to hold the pedal down the entire time he’d have been in serious trouble. At that angle, with Harry sitting in his lap, the tip of his cock is nestled firmly between Harry’s cheeks, the tip of his hard cock pressing against what he can only assume is Harry’s hole and just fucking no. No, no, definitely not. He guides Harry’s hand to the surface of Louis’ wrist and begins etching the middle part of the tattoo into Louis’ sun kissed skin. 

“Almost done,” Ashton says five minutes later. Harry leans over Louis’ arm, inspecting their work. Why Ashton looks down at his lap he’ll never know, and fuck, mistakes were made. He should have never, ever looked down. Peeking out from the waistband of Harry’s tight jeans are a pair of what Ashton can only describe as lace panties.  _ Women’s lace panties _ . Ashton swallows dryly, picturing Harry’s long legs and pert bum with nothing covering it but cornflower blue lace. Holy shit. He shouldn’t have looked down. This situation is like crossing a very long rope bridge over a canyon. Never look down. He doesn’t quite know what possesses him, or why he feels the need to do it, but he reaches down between their bodies, using one of his fingers to pull at the string detailing at the back of Harry’s panties. He pulls the soft, delicate material way from Harry’s warm skin, rubbing his finger over it from underneath the material, and he can feel it when Harry registers that he is touching him. 

“It looks great, babe,” Louis says, and Ashton whips his hand back out from between their bodies as if he’s been electrocuted. Ashton definitely agrees. The panties do look great, but he is sure that isn’t what Louis was referring to. Harry lets out a whimper at the loss, and he hopes that Louis doesn’t notice the exchange. He doesn't want to die tonight. He would much prefer to leave their home with his balls and dick in tact. If Louis tried to chop off his dick now, he would probably die from blood loss since he is sure all of the blood in his body is currently residing in his cock. Harry squirming even more on him isn’t helping matters. Holy shit. 

“My turn!” Harry exclaims, sitting up straighter and smiling at the pair. Why is he so excited to get a tattoo? Harry slowly gets off Ashton’s lap, and he isn’t sure if he is relieved or upset about the whole fucking thing. Ashton misses the feeling of Harry’s warm body on his own, his bum rubbing deliciously against his cock. Fuck. He needs to get a grip on his sanity, although getting a grip on his dick sounds like an even better idea. 

He isn’t really paying attention to what either of them are doing at this point, only that he feels like he wants to manhandle Harry back into his lap where he belongs. His vision focuses when he hears the rustling of fabric, and when his gaze lands on Harry, he is now shirtless, his muscled torso on full display, Louis now in a similar state of undress. Ashton takes in the tattoos littering the area, tracing them with his eyes. He would much rather trace them with his tongue, but that is neither here nor there. 

“Oh, I hope you don't mind,” Louis says then, noting the look of shock on Ashton's face. “I just like to be comfortable when I’m tattooing. Especially when I’m tattooing Harry.” Ashton simply nods, swallowing heavily. He isn’t about to argue. The two of them make up the most glorious sight he thinks he has ever seen, and there is no one in this world that would ever disagree with that. 

“Go for your life,” he adds, feeling like he should probably verbalise his agreement. “Mind if I ditch mine too? It is kinda warm in here.” It’s a lie. He knows its a fucking lie, but he really wants to remove his shirt for whatever reason. He watches as Harry nods slowly, smile lighting up his face at the suggestion. 

“Yeah. That’s fine. I’m sure it is getting warm in here for you, although one would think you would be used to the warmth, being from Australia then living in LA for quite sometime,” Louis responds, and Ashton knows Louis knows he is lying, if Louis’ shit eating grin is anything to go by.  Ashton quickly removes his shirt, not wanting to lose his nerve. 

“I’ve acclimated I guess,” he rushes, out and it’s another lie. Again, Ashton moves to stand up from the saddle stool and allow Louis to take his place. Apparently, so it would appear, Louis has other ideas. Just like Harry before him, Louis straddles Ashton, his much smaller legs dangling either side of his own, his feet not touching the ground. Without thought Ashton wraps a sure, strong arm around Louis’ small waist, the feeling of his warm skin sending sparks through his entire body. He hauls him further into his lap so that his shapely ass is now nestled against his hard cock, his back flush with Ashton’s bare chest. Fuck. This is too much. Louis doesn’t protest though, and neither does Harry. Louis simply winds his small feet around Ashton’s calves, anchoring himself in place. 

“Alright, Haz, baby, you ready?” Louis asks. 

“Yes, Daddy, I’m ready,” Harry responds, and wait what? Did Harry just call Louis, Daddy. No. He had to have said something else, like ‘dandy’ or ‘daisy’, that could be a term of endearment right? Ashton blames his fucked out mind because there was no way in hell Harry just said the word Daddy. His cock twitches even thinking about the word. He never thought he would be into a Daddy kink, but it seems tonight is a night of firsts. He is so glad he doesn’t have do Harry’s tattoo because he can’t concentrate. Louis rubs up and down Ash’s calf in a silent signal for him to press down on the pedal. Oh right. They were doing a tattoo, not whatever random image Ashton’s mind conjures up that involves Larry flushed, shaking, and fucked. 

Louis leans down, pressing the needle onto Harry’s pale skin. Ashton watches with interest as Harry closes his eyes at the sensation, a small moan escaping his full, puffy lips. Holy hell. Does Harry have a pain kink? Suddenly it feels like all of the pieces of the puzzle are slotting together in Ashton’s head. Why they were going to do it in the bedroom. Why Louis wanted to go first. Why they like to do their tattoo shirtless. Everything adds up. Harry has a fucking pain kink which means… oh gods. Which means they usually fuck afterward. Oh shit. Ashton tries to keep his panic internal, and his breaths even. He doesn’t want to jostle Louis too much and fuck up Harry’s tattoo, but holy fucking shit balls. 

“Baby, we’re almost done, I know it’s hard, but you have to try to sit still,” Louis says what feels like hours later, and fuck yeah it is hard. Ashton has been hard for the better part of an hour now. He has also been panicking internally for at least half that time. How he hasn’t passed out from lack of oxygen and blood flow to his is brain is a fucking miracle of science. His body should be studied in a lab, his dick under a microscope.

“I know, Daddy. It’s hard. I’m hard,” Harry whines using his free hand to adjust his noticeably hard dick in his jeans. He  _ whined _ . He definitely said ‘daddy’ that time. There is no mistaking it. Louis squirms a bit on his lap with the word, as if he is affected by it just as much as Ashton. For the love of all that is right in the world, Larry have to stop, or Louis is going to end up sitting in a load of Ashton’s come. He feels like he can feel Harry’s words in his soul. Like they have a direct link to his now grossly neglected cock, and he can’t help it. He wants to be the one to make Harry whine like that. He wants Harry to call him Daddy. Suddenly the nerves he had been feeling before have all but disappeared. The uncertainty of being alone with Harry, or their motives and intentions. Gone. Now, all he can think about is the overwhelming urge to have both of them naked, oiled and panting and if it takes him all night thats what will fucking happen. 

“Just a bit more, baby,” Louis says, leaning down. Ashton watches as the muscles of his back contract and sway with the motion as Louis finishes the tattoo. Ashton licks his lips, mouth going towards Louis’ smooth tattooed skin. What the fuck is he doing? Is this a mistake? Holy shit, he can’t stop himself. He breathes over the surface for a moment, breathing in the smell of Louis skin. It is delightful. Before he gets a chance to second guess himself or the action, he presses a firm, wet kiss to the middle of Louis’ spine. Louis tenses for the briefest of moments, letting the tattoo machine fall from his hand, craning his head backwards, forcing Ashton to look at him. His gaze is intense, more intense than Ashton has ever seen it, and he swallows hard. Fuck. He’s really fucked up now, but his heart skips a beat when Louis licks his lips and speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to yell at us in DMs or just chat, our Twitters are below!  
> Lena: @Wicked_Archer  
> Zoe: @TheirGoldenFool


	3. ADI and The Fuckening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry finally get their tattoos. Harry is a bad boy that needs to be punished, and what does a Grandma named Poss have to do with it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! Hope this is worth the wait. More to come! 
> 
> L and Z xx

“It fucking took you long enough,” Louis says conversationally, eyes focused on Ashton’s dark pink lips. His hazel eyes are dark with lust, and Louis honestly doesn’t know how the man waited this long. They had been unabashedly flirting with him all fucking night, and Louis has been literally sitting on his hard on for the entirety of Harry’s tattoo. Truth be told, the poor bastard has probably been sporting a hard on all night, just like Louis and Harry have. Louis knows the feeling, having been around Harry for extended periods of time since their first meeting. Need-to-nut navy balls is now a way of life for him, and it seems Ashton isn’t faring any better at the current moment. That’s the power of Harry, Louis supposes.  

Louis licks his own lips, and turns back to face Harry who has the same fucked out look on his face as Ashton now has. He needs to finish Harry’s tattoo and fast, so that the real fun can begin. At this point, his doubts about Ashton are a thing of the past. He can feel him panting against his back, his arms now encircling Louis’ waist, and his fingers are doing this odd kneading thing that reminds Louis of a cat. Louis doesn’t mind it. It feels good, better than good if he is honest, but there are other much more important places he wishes both Harry and Ashton had their hands on.

Louis grabs Harry’s wrist then, so he can finish this godsdamned tattoo and get to the fun part. His dick is so hard now, he is sure it is leaking in his underwear. Harry doesn’t seem to be doing much better, if the bulge that he has been sporting in his jeans for the better part of an hour has anything to do with it. Louis feels Ashton’s lips on his skin again a few moments later, the kisses starting off light and feathery. Louis doesn't know if he would have noticed them if it wasn’t for the fact that his senses are in overdrive. He feels everything. The very air in their house is licking his skin in the most enticing manner, setting his nerve endings on fire. Louis closes his eyes for a moment, releasing a small moan when Ashton tightens his arms around him, and begins licking up Louis’ spine, seeming to trace the tattoos marked there.

“Fuck, Daddy. Please. Need it,” Harry whimpers, eyes closed and lips bitten red to the point of almost bleeding. Louis has never edged Harry so much. He would feel bad for doing it, but Harry seems to be enjoying it, to an extent. He hasn’t said his safeword yet, and Louis trusts that he would if things became too much for him.

“I know, baby. I know, but you’re doing so good. Ash and I are so proud of you,” Louis tells him softly, watching as Harry cracks open his eyes smiling brightly at the praise. Louis can feel it when Ashton stiffens behind him at the mention of his name, his kisses stopping.

“Yes. So proud,” Ashton agrees after a few moments. A warmth spreads through Louis’ chest at his words, warming him in a different way. He is going to need to explain to Ashton what is going on eventually, but he is just happy that Ashton somewhat understands Harry’s need for praise. Bless the Aussie bastard. Louis could kiss him, but he has more important things to worry about, like Harry’s tattoo, his own outrageous hard on, and the fact that this night is shaping up to go completely differently than Louis had originally planned. He can kiss him later.

A few agonising moments later, Louis is finally finished with Harry’s tattoo. He wipes it over with care, applying the aftercare cream gently to the area, and all of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room is electric. He can feel the unspoken tension like a living, breathing thing. It’s all consuming and tangible, and he knows that both Harry and Ashton are waiting for him to make the next move. Fuck. He really hadn’t thought this part through. It was always so effortless for him and Harry. He never had to really think about the transition between the tattooing process and the sex that always followed, but now they had a third person to take into consideration. One wrong move could see the whole thing go up in smoke.

“All done, baby” Louis says, his voice sounding broken even to his own ears which simply wouldn’t do. That would throw off Harry in their dynamic. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to become confused. He clears his throat. He can do this. If he was able to survive Harry’s first, four hour long, erection inducing tattoo appointment, this should be a piece of cake. He feels it when Ashton’s mouth is back on his skin, this time biting a bit, making Louis feel tingly all over. He almost lets his face soften in pleasure, but schools his features, needing to keep them neutral for Harry. He glances at Harry who just nods, reading his thoughts. Louis turns his entire body, so that he is now straddling Ashton’s hips on the saddle stool.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, love,” Louis says, his features morphing into a smirk. He can see it when a flash of something primal crosses Ashton’s eyes, his look changing from one of apprehension to blinding need. The hazel in his eyes is almost completely gone, replaced by black. His lips are dark pink and shiny from the kisses and licks he has been placing on the expanse of Louis’ back. His curls are mussed, like he has been running his ringed fingers through them, the very same digits that are currently holding on to Louis’ hips like they are the only thing keeping him anchored to the very earth.

“I didn’t doubt that you had,” Ashton replies, and before another word can escape his delectable lips, Louis brings his hands up into his sandy blonde curls, pulling their lips together. Louis does not hesitate to kiss Ashton like his life depends on it. He has been on edge for hours and wanting this moment since he started Harry’s tattoo. He thinks he has been on edge, so poor Harry must be really feeling it. He bites at Ashton’s bottom lip, his tongue immediately seeking entrance, and he is happy to note that Ashton doesn’t complain or shy away from it. He grants Louis entrance to his mouth readily, and Louis can’t help but meld their tongues together, Ashton’s tongue exploring and tasting Louis just as intensely as Louis’ is exploring his. Fuck. This is so fucking hot. Why have they never thought to include a third before? He thought kissing someone other than Harry would feel weird and wrong, but he was incorrect in that belief. Go figure.

Louis begins grinding his hips on Ashton’s rubbing their clothed cocks together with each movement. Ashton moans into his mouth, allowing Louis to swallow the sound. Holy fucking hell. They are doing this. The fuckening is about to begin, and Louis can’t find a single fucking complaint about it. Louis presses his chest closer to Ashton’s needing to feel the skin on skin contact. He wraps his arms around Ashton’s neck, rubbing their bodies together with the movement of his hips. Every single part of his skin that Ashton is touching feels like it is on fire. He hears a deep moan coming from behind them and breaks their kiss with a wet pop. Ashton just stares at him a moment, blinking and Louis thinks he may be regretting their kiss, before he smiles, dimples popping. Louis returns his smile before schooling his features to look at Harry.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t help it,” Harry whines when Louis’ eyes land on him, taking in his fucked out appearance. His lips are so fucking red, Louis just wants to kiss him. His curls are sticking to his forehead and body, the inked area glistening with sweat. He has tears running down his cheeks, nose red and face blotchy. Louis is confused by his apology and appearance until he looks down to see Harry’s large hand covering his crotch.

“Remove your hand,” Louis commands, putting a sternness in his tone and turning back around to face him, resuming his previous position on Ashton’s lap. He feels Ashton’s arms wrap around him again, almost as if he can’t help it at this point. Harry whimpers then slowly removes his hand, allowing Louis to see a large wet spot that has formed, making the dark material appear even darker. Louis freezes taking in the information, trying to decide what to do. Harry hasn’t come without permission in a very long time, so he must have been very worked up. “Harry, what did I tell you?” He only uses Harry’s given name during scenes to let him know he is disappointed. Harry’s face crumbles with the realisation, fat tears escaping him.  

“I didn’t touch, Daddy. I swear!” Harry exclaims, large hands coming up to cover his face in embarrassment. Ashton’s fingers dig into his skin, watching the exchange, but Louis isn’t focused on him right now. All of his attention is on Harry, watching as his boyfriend cries behind his hands. Louis believes him, which means he was so worked up he came untouched. Louis’ dick stiffens even more, if fucking possible, at the thought. Louis swallows, thankful Harry isn't looking at him because he doesn’t know if he could actually stop himself from reacting with that information. Holy shit. He needs to think quickly; it’s just so fucking hard, pun intended, when he has Ashton’s chest against his back, warmth seeping into his skin.

“You may not have touched yourself, but you still disobeyed a direct order by coming without my permission,” Louis says, watching as Harry slowly removes his hands, then covers his face back up at Louis’ disappointed expression.

“I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t mean t-to, Daddy. It was-s-- it was just so m-much. I was s-so hard. Please, Daddy. I’m so sorry,” Harry rambles between stuttered breaths. Louis is worried he is going to have an asthma attack if he keeps this up, and he would rather do breath play in a completely different way. Fuck. Louis _gets it_. He is ridiculously hard, too. Well hard doesn’t even cover it. What’s harder than hard? Waking up extremely early on a Sunday? Not giving Harry what he wants? All of those things are hard, but not as hard as his cock right now. He watches as Harry tries to take in deep gulps of air; he knows he needs to calm Harry down, and fast.

“I understand, baby,” Louis says, his tone softer this time, being sure to place the term of endearment in the phrase. Harry instantly relaxes with the words, his breathing steadies, and he removes his hands from his face. His eyes and nose are even redder with his outburst, his cheeks glistening with tears, his lips just as red. He looks so fucking beautiful it hurts Louis’ chest. “But you still need to be punished. You know that.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry says, placing his hands in his lap, fiddling with his rings like he does when he knows he has been bad.

“I want you to go to the bedroom, find your collar, but don’t put it on, you know that is my job. Just lay it on the bed, then I want you to remove all of your clothes, except your underwear, and keel there, waiting for me. Will you do that?” Louis instructs, voice strong and steady despite the fact that he just wants to hug and comfort his boyfriend.

“Yes, Daddy, I will,” Harry responds quickly, finally meeting Louis eyes. “How long will I be waiting?”

“As long as I fucking want you to,” Louis says, and Harry knows he is pushing it by even asking him the question.

“Okay, Daddy. I will wait forever if I have to,” Harry agrees, slowly getting up from the table, his ab muscles flexing with the movement. Louis wants to lick them, bite them, and mark him, but he refrains, knowing he will have time for that later.

“Good boy. Don’t touch yourself,” Louis points at him in warning. Harry nods his head and leaves, disappearing into the bedroom. Louis lets out a sigh of relief when he is out of earshot, slumping into warm, steady arms. He both loves and hates punishing Harry for his misdeeds. Ashton. Fuck, Louis almost forgot he was there. He doesn't know how, since Ashton is still hot and hard against his body. He feels like he has already run a marathon, and they haven’t even started yet. Louis isn’t sure where Ashton is going to fit into this yet, he just knows he definitely wants him _in_ somewhere. Louis thinks he may be going mad from lust because their luck could not have worked out in their favour any better if he’d tried. It feels as if Ashton has just landed in their laps. Louis reminds himself to thank Niall, that adorable little Leprechaun, because he is the only person that could have given them this amount luck tonight. Happy Anniversary to them.

Louis turns around when Ashton clears his throat, breaking the silence that has settled over the room. Ashton’s light eyebrows are drawn in confusion, his hazel eyes wide. Louis realises quickly how odd this probably looks to a total stranger. He has never had to explain to anyone their habits, unless he counts Liam after the first time Harry left the shop with a free tattoo. That was a fucking disaster, of Pompeii proportions. It may have been the most awkward five minutes of Louis’ entire life, not including the time his mother visited them and found their ball gag wedged between the couch cushions when her phone met a similar fate. Louis doesn’t think he has ever been so red in his life and would have gladly sunk into the floor that day. Harry just smiled, took the gag from her grasp exclaiming ‘We’ve been looking for that’ then placed it on the television stand where it remained the rest of the afternoon, Louis feeling as though it was watching them. His mom’s eyes kept glancing towards it, then back, as if she couldn’t take her mind from it. Louis wanted to murder him, but instead punished him later that night. Harry liked to tempt his bounds, has since their very first day. Harry liked to be punished.

Louis snaps out of the memory when Ashton clears his throat again. Right. He was supposed to be explaining their sex life to Ashton then asking him if he wants to join. Fuck. He didn’t think this through. Sure, Ashton joining sounded great in theory, but how was he supposed to tell him what he and Harry do in the bedroom without freaking him out too much? Harry seems to have gotten his hopes up about Ashton coming along, literally, and truth be told, Louis had gotten his hopes up too. He sighs, collecting his thoughts before he speaks, letting his voice take it’s normal tone. He stands up from Ashton’s lap, prompting the other man to do the same. He wants to have this conversation face-to-face.

“If you haven't noticed, Harry has a pain kink, among others, and is extremely submissive in bed. He calls me Daddy. Do you wanna join us? Harry has practically been begging me to ask you all night, but there is no pressure to say yes. Whatever you want to do is fine, love. We understand we aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, and some of the things we do in bed may be a little out of the ordinary.” Louis hold his breath, waiting for Ashton’s answer. Out of the ordinary may be just the tiniest understatement, but it was the best way he could think to describe it. His brain isn’t functioning enough from lack of blood flow at the right now to come up with anything better, so ‘out of the ordinary’ will have to fucking do. He knows they are a lot. They are intense when they are together like this; he just hopes that Ashton is as willing as he appears to be.

“Yeah, nah. I wanna to join. I just feel a bit out of my depth here. I don’t wanna fuck it up. I haven’t been with a guy before, so, some more information would be awesome,” Ashton answers, no hesitation to his voice.  

Louis smiles at his answer. Fuck yes. Now they are getting somewhere. It makes him feel strangely proud at Ashton’s confession of ‘never been with a guy before’. They will be his first. They will pop his proverbial bi curious cherry. He isn’t sure if Ashton should feel lucky or scared. He is going to go with the former, since they wouldn’t do anything to hurt the man. Louis also has the sneaking suspicion that it will also be his first BDSM scene, so yes, explaining is necessary. So much fucking explaining, and in a very short amount of time. He can do this.

“We go by the colour system, like traffic lights, green means go, and you’re smart enough to figure out the rest. If things ever become too much, we have a safeword. It’s Kiwi. Remember it. If he ever says it at any point, you stop touching him and get the fuck away. This requires a lot of trust, so if you are going to do this, then you have to trust us, and we have to trust you, got it?” Louis asks, watching as Ashton’s hazel eyes widen with the speech. He knows he’s scared him a bit, but he doesn't fucking care. This isn’t something that you can just fuck around with. Someone could get hurt. Harry could get hurt, and Louis would never forgive himself if that were to happen.

Louis watches as the other man’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down, swallowing hard. “What should I call you?” He asks after a few moments, smirk back in place.

“Call me whatever you want,” Louis says, laughing quietly. “He may call you, Daddy, though. You definitely have more of a Daddy vibe.” When Ashton’s eyebrows reach his hairline, Louis laughs again, letting his eyes float down Ashton’s body. Harry was right to want Ashton to join them. He is the perfect mixture of  ‘boy next door’ and ‘daddy as fuck’, all wild, sandy blonde curls, stunning hazel eyes and rippling six pack. And those tattoos? Fuck. Louis isn’t even going to go there.

“Erm, shouldn’t we go, maybe like, check on him?” Ashton questions hesitantly, snapping Louis out of his musings. It’s kind of adorable how unsure Ashton looks about all of this. Louis would laugh if he didn’t know exactly how Ashton was feeling right now. He had been the same quaking, nervous mess the first time he had encountered a worked up and visibly hard Harry, so he couldn’t really blame him. He knows his and Harry’s relationship can be somewhat… intense. Okay, intense may be the understatement of the fucking century. Louis can’t even think of a word that describes their relationship. Mind-blowing? There is definitely a shit ton of blowing that happens, but it’s not always of the mind. Cataclysmic would probably be the word Louis would use. Yes. Definitely cataclysmic.

“We will go in there in a minute. He needs to be punished and sometimes the best punishment is to let him work himself up a bit. I am going to warn you, it may be get intense in there. I may physically hurt Harry, but please, don’t be alarmed. Trust me when I say, he likes it, and I would never do anything that would cause him any lasting or permanent damage,” Louis tells him, needing to get it all out there before they begin. Ashton is back to looking petrified at the ‘lasting or permanent damage’ comment, his firm lips shaped into a small ‘o’ and his eyes wide. Louis really doesn’t want to scare him, he just needs him to understand the gravity of the situation. Warnings are important in all of this. One wrong move, and Ashton could throw off their dynamic or throw Harry off, and it would be Harry that would pay for his mistake.

“Are you sure you are up for this, Ash? It’s okay if you say no. This is our lifestyle. You don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable. No one is forcing you, love.” Louis waits, again, watching the cogs slowly turn in Ashton’s mind, trying to process the newest bit of information. Louis and Harry have this down to a fine art, so in tune with their bodies and each others that they never really find it necessary to voice their wants or needs, both of them just knowing. Harry is, as yet, to use his safeword, and Louis is in no hurry for tonight to be the first time.

“Yeah,” Ashton squeaks out, clearing his throat before he continues, his voice steadier when he begins to speak again. “Yeah, nah, I’m good. We’re good. I’m not gonna lie, this will be a first for me in so many ways Louis, but I trust you. I trust Harry. I promise I won’t do or say anything that will put Harry in any danger. Umm-- what about frangas?” Wait what?

“What the fuck is a franga?” All of these Aussie words and slang are going to give him a fucking aneurysm. As long as it’s Ashton’s voice and mouth speaking them, he thinks that would be a perfectly acceptable way to die.

“Sorry! I did it again didn’t I?” Louis just smiles and nods at him, he really is quite endearing in a ‘I want to fuck your brains out’ kind of way. “I meant condoms.”

“Oh!” Louis exclaims, the realisation hitting him. He has never in his life heard them being referred to as… well whatever in the fuck Ashton just said. “Harry and I have never really used them. We are both clean, I can assure you. Are you clean?” Louis asks, looking in Ashton’s eyes gauging his reaction.

“Yeah. I’m clean. I promise,” Ashton raises both hands up to his chest, as if trying to show Louis how honest he is being.

Louis smiles, knowing that what Ashton is telling him is the truth. He has known Ashton for a lot of years and values him as a trusted friend. He just hopes that trust will cross over to what they are about to do now. Louis feels much better about the situation, but Ashton still looks like a deer in headlights, So Louis, with a smirk, offers him a way out, just in case things become too much for him.

“Okay. It’s up to you if you want to use one. You don’t get to come in Harry though. That’s only me.” Louis pauses, thinking about his next question. “Would you like a safeword, Ash? You know, incase things get too much for you?” Ashton seems to think about this for a few seconds before a steely resolve settles over his features. Louis steps closer to him, wanting to feel his skin beneath his fingers again. He traces one of the many tattoos littered on the expanse of Ashton’s chest as he waits for an answer.

“Nah, she’ll be right, but just incase, I think I’ll go with Lamingtons.” Louis has no idea what the fuck that is. This feels like the condom/franga situation all over again. Is it some sort of citrus beverage that involves lemons? Harry would probably like it. He likes weird shit like avocado toast, bubble tea, and anything pistachio. Louis thinks he just likes the colour green, but can’t be positive. If it says ‘hipster’ or ‘organic’, Harry will sign his name on the dotted line, no questions fucking asked. Is Lamingtons like a city in bum fuck nowhere Australia? Maybe it is a unit of measurement. Like, ‘that is a lamingtons amount of come’. He has no fucking idea.  

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Louis finally asks, realising he will never be able to figure it out otherwise. Ashton’s choice of phrasing and accent is doing things to him.

“Sorry, mate. I keep forgetting you lot have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about. You can thank curly in there for my Aussie-ness coming out full whack. It usually only happens when I’m blotto. Two drinks with dinner doesn’t really add up to maggot drunk though does it? He… he does things to me.” Ashton has never been more correct in his entire fucking life, even though Louis only understood about a quarter of what he just said. He did hear one thing loud and clear, Harry does things to him.. Harry does things to everyone. Louis would have never in a million years barebacked with a dude he just met in his tattoo studio while he called him ‘daddy’, but that is exactly what Harry made him do five years prior. Harry is magical. Like a baby unicorn, or a shooting star or some equally majestic as fuck magical thing he can’t think of right this second, because Ashton is laughing now and holy fuck.

“I like the Aussie-ness and there are now two curly haired people in this, so I best not get them confused,” Louis says putting a flirtatious tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“Do you wanna know what it is?” Ashton asks with a smirk, looking down at him placing his two large hands on either side of Louis’ hips.

“‘Course,” Louis breaths out, feeling as though they are suspended in time. He looks up into Ashton’s hazel eyes and licks his lips, waiting for his response.

He doesn't really need to know what the fuck a Lamington is. It's Ashton's choice what his safe word is, Louis doesn’t need to understand it, but if it means he gets to listen to Ashton drone on in that fucking accent for another five minutes then he really, really needs to know. He needs to know it with every fiber of his being. He searches his brain again, trying to figure out what the fuck it is. Maybe it’s an animal. A bird? That would be fitting. If it’s from Australia, it probably wants to kill them. He has no idea how a bird would go about killing a man. He’s sure Australia has a bird that could though. The Discovery channel that Harry likes to watch at ridiculous hours of the night has told him they already have weird things in shells that sting you and man eating spiders. A bird that could kill you isn't really too much of a stretch at this point. It’s probably a tiny fucker too. Those always seem to be the most dangerous.

“A Lamington,” Ashton begins, a faraway look in his eyes now, his whole face lighting up as he speaks, “is only one of _the_ most Australian things there is. It’s an Australian icon really.” Louis waits for Ashton to continue, feeling on the edge of his proverbial seat wanting to know. He watches as a pink tongue peaks out, wetting Ashton’s lips again. Louis wants to kiss him, but can’t because he wants to know what the fuck a Lamington is more. 

“A Lamington is what you take to your Gran’s for tea when you’re told not to bring anything. Actually, you bring a box of _Favourites_ when you are told not to bring anything, but that's beside the point.” Louis is getting more confused by the second because what the hell are _Favourites_? And what the hell do they have to do with Lamingtons? But he is so fucking endeared by Ashton he keeps quiet, and lets him continue. 

“They are always the first things to sell out at the annual school bake sale. You’ll never go to an Aussie barbeque and not find one, and if you say that you don’t like them, then your just fucking un-Australian. I mean, if it wasn’t for Lamingtons Grandma Poss would never have been able to make Hush visible again!” Louis bursts out laughing at his explanation.

That may have been the most Australian definition he has ever fucking heard, and he is still so confused. Who is Grandma Poss, why is Hush whoever or whatever that is invisible and what does she have to do with this? Is she Ashton’s actual Grandma, and why the fuck would he bring her up at a time like this? While discussing fucking safewords of all things. Maybe Ashton is kinkier than Louis had thought, but that’s just gross, even for Louis. Despite the fact that Ashton literally just told him, he still has no fucking clue what it is. He runs through the sentences again in his head, attempting to decipher it into actual English. His dick gets harder with every run through, hearing the voice and accent in his own head is almost as good as hearing it with his own ears. So a Lamington is a dessert? Maybe? If that’s the case, then Louis would gladly eat that shit off Ashton’s cock. He bets he has a pretty cock. He has a pretty everything else it seems.

“I only understood about half of that, but Lemingtons it is,” Louis laughs, watching as Ashton smiles too, eyes crinkling at the corners. Ashton is in the realm of hot as fuck with just his normal features, but when he smiles, and his dimples pop, it is fucking devastating. Louis almost swoons, but he doesn’t. That is more Harry’s style, as always, pun intended.

“You mean Lamingtons,” Ashton says with a laugh. Louis is even more confused now. Isn’t that what he just said? Is this like the great pa-tay-toe/pa-tah-toe debate? Or is it more like the category that tomatoes fall into, fruit or vegetable? As if able to read his mind, Ashton continues. “You said Lemingtons, it’s Lamingtons. I can see you still have no fucking idea what a Lamington is, so I’ll put you out of your misery, ‘cause we are out here debating safewords while your hot as fuck boyfriend is in there waiting to be fucked.” Ashton has a point, well, a few points, but that one is particularly valid.

“Well, what the fuck is a Lamington? Like you said, there is an incredibly hot boy just begging to be fucked in the next room, so, make it snappy.” Again Ashton laughs, and again Louis tries not to come in his pants at the sound, or at the way his tattooed abdomen clenches with it, making his muscles ripple beneath his tanned skin. Louis leans into him more, wanting to feel the sensation against his own stomach.

“A Lamington, is a square piece of sponge cake, covered in chocolate icing and desiccated coconut. Sometimes they have a jam filling across the centre. Those ones are better. I just _love_ a sticky centre.” Ashton winks as he finishes his sentence, and Louis isn’t sure if he wants to kiss him or strangle him. Maybe both. In that order, or at the same time. Speaking of strangling. Harry. Harry is important. The poor boy is still waiting in the bedroom. Well he better fucking be, since that is what Louis instructed him to do. He is already in trouble, and as much as Harry likes to push his boundaries, he knows better when he has already been bad. 

“Got it. Lamington. I am learning all kinds of interesting shit about Australians tonight. Night of first and all that,” Louis says, then he decides to just fucking go for it. He hates all of this twiddle dicking around, when he has a perfectly good and open present waiting for him in the other room wearing nothing but a pair of painties. He takes Ashton’s hand, which is still bigger than his, but nowhere near the size of Harry’s. He thought it would feel weird in his own, after having the feeling of Harry’s ginormous one for so long, but it doesn’t. Together, they walk to the bedroom. Before Louis opens the door, he shoots a smile and wink at Ashton, then schools is features into a look of sternness, slipping back into his role. Ashton seems to get the hint, and does something similar with his own.

He opens the door to their bedroom slowly, quickly spotting Harry kneeling in front of the bed as he was told to do. He is naked except for his now come stained panties. His head is down, hair curtaining his face, so Louis can’t see it. On the bed, is his black, leather collar. Louis had gotten it for him a few years ago, not for a special occasion, but simply because it was a Tuesday, and he enjoyed spoiling his boyfriend. “Being such a good boy for, Daddy.” Louis breaks the silence of the room with his comment, eyes racking over Harry’s pale, tattooed body. He glances over at Ashton, whose eyes are dark with desire. Like this, Harry really is a sight to behold. He is hard again, his cock bulging out of the delicate fabric of the underwear, the leaking tip peaking out of the lace waistband.

“Yes, Daddy. Doing as I was told,” Harry says, voice horse.

“Look up, baby, let us see you,” Louis tells him, walking around to stand in front of his boyfriend. Harry slowly lifts his head, the muscles in his long neck working to do the action. When his green eyes lock with Louis’, Louis is startled by their intensity. He knew Harry was gone, but didn’t realise how far gone he actually was. He looks like he is already teetering on the verge of subspace, and they haven't even begun. Louis is kind of scared, to be honest. He feels tonight they will go further than they ever have before, and that is a lot of pressure on him. He needs to keep Harry safe because Subdrops are a bitch. He never wants Harry to experience that, not again.

“There he is,” Ashton says, voice wavering just the slightest. If Harry notices, he doesn’t let on. Louis gives Ashton a very subtle nod, hoping to tell him that he said the correct thing. He thinks Ashton understands because he gives him a very small smile. Louis takes a deep breath again, trying to steal his racing heart. A black hole doesn’t even compare to the pressure Louis is currently feeling in this situation. Black hole who? He doesn't even know her. She is chump change compared to having two people depend on him to get them through this new experience, successfully, with hopefully multiple orgasms and no serious injuries. No injuries at all if he can help it.

“You have been such a good boy waiting for me, but you still need to be punished,” Louis tells him, voice stern, as if daring Harry to argue with him. He reaches for Harry’s collar on the bed, feeling the black leather under his fingers as he picks it up. It feels like sin and all of the obscene things that he loves so much about their time during scenes. It is as much a part of their fantasy as they themselves are, and he knows as soon as it is fastened around Harry’s neck there will be no turning back. He motions for Ashton to hold Harry’s lengthy curls, so he can fasten the strap around the ridiculously long column of Harry’s neck. Harry sighs when Louis’ nimble fingers clasp it, securing it in place. Louis slips two fingers between Harry’s neck and the material, making sure it isn’t too tight. Harry moans as the collar tightens around his neck slightly, pressing into his airway for just a few seconds.

“How are you going to punish me, Daddy?” Harry asks, voice low.

“Well, at first I considered spanking you, but you like the pain, so that’s not really a punishment is it?” Louis looks at Harry, an eyebrow raised in question, waiting for him to answer.

“No, Daddy. It’s not,” Harry replies, swallowing heavily.

“So, I decided to do to Ash,” Louis says, a smile in his tone, looking towards Ashton, studying his face intently for any sign of panic, “What I was planning to do to you.” Louis pauses for dramatic effect, watching as Harry’s brows knit together in alarm, unhappy with the new plan. Louis continues, “And I’m going to make you watch, the entire time, without touching yourself.” Harry whines but doesn't say anything, knowing that would just grant him more punishment. Louis glances over at Ashton, who is watching their exchange with curious eyes, a hint of excitement dancing behind them. Thank fuck. If Ashton had panicked, this entire night would have flown out the window in a heartbeat.

Right. Louis should probably actually start doing stuff to Ashton. He just… _how_? He is so used to the easy dynamic between himself and Harry, a new person is throwing him off. Are threesome’s supposed to be this awkward? Are there supposed to be moments of ‘what the fuck are we supposed to do next?’ or ‘okay, you go here, no I said here, let me… just stay still’? He decides to just fucking go for it. Wing it. Like those girls do with their eyeliner. He thinks that’s what Lottie calls it anyways, but he is going to take that as a life plan. Winging it sounds like a grand ass fucking plan.

“Come here, love,” Louis says now facing Ashton, a smirk on his thin lips. Ashton responds with a smirk of his own and begins to saunter closer to where Louis is standing in front of Harry. Louis can see Harry watching them intently out of the corner of his eye. He has an almost murderous expression on his face, but Louis can’t find it in him to care. Harry needs to be punished. He disobeyed Louis’ orders, and so far, this is hurting him way more than a flogger ever would. Bloody pain kink.

Louis focuses his attention back on Ashton, watching intently at the way his hips sway seductively as he takes slow, calculated steps towards him, and he almost thinks Ashton is doing it deliberately. Fuck. He may not be able to survive the both of them, but if he doesn’t, he’ll die a happy man. Who wouldn’t want to die like this? Surrounded by an endless sea of skin, muscles, tattoos, pretty eyes and wayward curls. Louis thinks that’s a fucking excellent way to go. In fact, he would dare the fucking Reaper to take him right now. He would come in his stupid black cloak, look at the scene in front of him, then probably kill himself on principle because he also wants to die happy.

When Ashton is standing so close to Louis he can feel his breath on his skin, Louis reaches up, tangling his fingers into Ashton’s Curls and brings his mouth down to meet his. The kiss is instantly heated. Teeth clashing, tongues delving, spit flying. It’s hot and sloppy, the room filling with the sounds of their breathy moans, and is Harry….growling? Louis has never experienced this jealous, possessive side of Harry, but it’s fucking hot. If just kissing Ashton is making Harry react this way, then he can’t wait to find out how what Louis has planned next will effect him.

Louis grinds his cock against Ashton’s through the fabric of their too tight jeans. They need to come off. They need to come off right fucking now. Louis wants to see him. Wants to be able to feel Ashton’s cock grind against his without the barrier of clothing. He hasn’t wanted anything as much since the day he met Harry. He can tell it’s long and thick just by how it feels against his where they are standing, but he would much rather see it for himself. You know, for science.

Louis takes Ashton’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it, pulling a low moan from him in the process. Ashton’s hands come down to Louis’ hips, squeezing hard, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Louis can’t help the moan that escapes him, and he doesn’t miss the sounds coming from Harry. He will choose to ignore them for now. It’s his own fault he is being forced to kneel and watch. If he’d been a good boy, he could have been enjoying Ashton with him, this could have been him, but he has been bad. So he can fucking suffer for a little while. It was then a slightly evil plan popped into Louis’ mind, and he wondered why on earth they had never done this before. This shit was hot as fuck, and if he wasn’t careful, Harry wouldn’t be the only one sporting come stained underwear.

“Get those fucking jeans off. Now,” Louis growls into Ashton’s ear when Ashton drags his nails down Louis’ back for the third time. He is losing control and fast, and this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He is the one in charge here, not them. Ashton pulls back and looks at him, a carnal look in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy,” he groans out, and holy fucking shit. Louis was not expecting that, and clearly neither was Harry. He is fidgeting around in his place beside them, moans and growls rumbling out of him, giving them both looks that could sink a fucking battleship. Ashton clearly noticing their surprise adds, “Since Harry is being punished for being bad, and you are doing everything you were planning to do to him, to me instead, I thought it would be fitting to call you Daddy, since I am taking Harry’s place.”

Holy shit. Louis loves the way Ashton thinks. He never even thought of that. Harry growls at the explanation, shooting daggers through his gaze at Ashton. Good. More punishment for Harry. This is shaping up to the be the best punishment he has ever thought of including the time he rode Harry for half and hour with a cockring firmly in place, not allowing him to physically come. Ashton is a genius when it comes to this stuff, a natural really.

“Fuck. Such a fucking good boy for me,” Louis breathes out against Ashton’s neck as he places a kiss where his lips are. He tastes like sweat, a delicious chocolate scented body wash and no...surely not? Fucking coconut. Ashton is a walking, talking fucking Lamington, and Louis can’t wait to get to taste his sweet, sticky filling. “Why don’t you give me a little show, love, hmmm? Will you do that for me?” Louis says, choosing to use the word ‘me’ instead of ‘us’ because Harry is being ignored due to his punishment. Fuck this could be a really fucking bad idea. Neither him nor Harry are supposed to be coming, but he just can’t help it.

“Yes, Daddy. I will.” Ashton smirks at Harry with with comment. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. This is too fucking much. Deep breaths, Louis. Deep. Fucking. Breaths. He needs to calm down. He is the one in control here. He has to be. Both men are depending on him to get them through this, so he gets a fucking grip on his dick. Not in the way he desperately wants to, but in the metaphorical way. Metaphors are more Harry’s thing, but he has been around the man long enough. Surely his stupid fucking metaphors for the universe have rubbed off on him in some way. They have definitely fucking rubbed off together enough to be the same fucking person at this point.

Louis watches as Ashton backs away from him, moving backwards closer to the bed. Louis’ gaze continues to follow him as he moves over to stand behind Harry, Louis’ painfully hard cock nudging at the back of Harry’s head, and Harry’s eyes snap up to look at him. Louis shakes his head, fixing Harry with a hard glare, before he fists Harry’s curls, forcing his head back in the direction Ashton is standing. Harry moans hard, and Louis swallows harder. His chest is heaving, he can feel it, his heart racing at a speed that is neither safe or normal and continues to hold Harry’s head still as Ashton begins to sway his hips, touching himself suggestively.

They both watch with glazed over eyes as Ashton very slowly unbuttons his jeans. Reginald the Two-Toed sloth has nothing on Ashton’s pace right now. It could rival a snail or something equally as slow. A tortoise maybe? They are supposed to be slow. Wasn’t there a children’s book written about that very same thing? Louis doesn't fucking know because Ashton is finally unzipping his jeans. Gods it must be the longest fucking zipper to ever unzip, because it is taking days for Ashton’s long ringed fingers to pull it down. Louis hopes they aren’t tired after this because he has plans for those fingers. When the zipper is finally unzipped  Ashton hooks his fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pushing them down his muscled legs. A few months has to have gone by at this point. It must be fucking Christmas because this is the best gift Louis has ever received, besides Harry. Louis gasps involuntarily as Ashton’s jeans and underwear finally pool around his feet and he steps out of them. Not only are his arms, chest, back, pretty much fucking everywhere tattooed, so are his muscular legs and what the fuck is that? It can’t be. Surely fucking not.

Harry groans when he see it too, and Louis fucking seconds that response. There is a silver bar going through Ashton's hard length. Louis almost chokes on his own spit. He has never, in all of his years, been with a man who actually has his dick pierced. Harry has his tongue pierced now, courtesy of yours truly, and Ashton has his lip, tongue and eyebrow pierced, but that is nothing out of the ordinary, he’s had other men with those piercings. They are all fucking hot and make sex all the better for it, but never a dick piercing. He has pierced a few himself, but has never actually fucked or been fucked by someone who does. Christmas has definitely come in the amount of time it took Ashton to remove his jeans, because this is a Christmas fucking miracle. Fuck the virgin birth of Jesus, this is the only miracle Louis needs and will acknowledge.

Now, it’s Louis’ turn to get undressed, but he knows it won't be nearly as impressive as what Ashton just surprised them with. Ashton’s dark eyes follow Louis’ movements as he unbuttons his own jeans. Ashton  grabs his own hard length when Louis pulls down the zipper, prompting both Louis and Harry to moan. Once he is finished with the zipper, he pushes them and his underwear down his hips and legs, stepping out of the items quickly, and kicks them to the side. With dark eyes, he steps over toward Ashton’s rock hard body and grabs his arm, pushing him down on the bed. Ashton goes willingly, landing with his arm and legs spread. Louis then takes Harry and repositions his limp body, so that he is facing the bed, making sure he has a good view of the show.

“No touching yourself. Don’t make me tie you up. It will be hard with your new tattoo, but I’m sure I can make it work,” Louis says to Harry one last time, pointing a finger at him sternly.

“Yes, Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good,” Harry responds through gritted teeth. His jaw is clenched so hard, Louis briefly wonders how the man had even formed a sentence. His dark green eyes go to Ashton on the bed, jealousy written all over his features. Louis bets that Harry is suddenly wishing he hadn’t insisted on Ashton joining them. Well too fucking bad, he asked for this. Louis then gets on the bed, running a hand up Ashton’s torso, enjoying the feeling of the muscle beneath his skin clench and unclench. Ashton doesn't move much, probably nervous now that they are both lying naked together. Louis can’t have that, after all, they want him to have a good time.

“Relax,” Louis whispers in Ashton’s ear so that only he can hear. Harry probably just thinks he is biting on the lobe, so he does just that, listening as Ashton releases a soft moan from his parted lips. Good. He’s starting to relax again. He better for what Louis plans to do. Louis is about to test the boundaries of a formerly straight man’s trust. This should be interesting, but it will drive Harry wild. That is his goal in life, after all, so he will chalk it up as a win. Louis begins kissing Ashton hard, all tongue, teeth and spit, leaving the concept of chastity long in the past, where it fucking belongs, thank you very much. He gets on top of Ashton, straddling him, enjoying the feeling of Ashton’s hard length between his cheeks, his own hard cock rubbing against Ashton’s ab muscles creating a delicious friction.

Ashton moans when Louis grinds down. Yes. This is exactly what Louis wants: Ashton relaxed and waton below him. He now makes his way down to Ashton’s neck, biting the skin. He looks straight at Harry as he marks Ashton’s tan skin, leaving a purple bruise right on the area he knows is Harry's favourite, as if to say ‘this could have been you, but you were bad’. When Harry growls, again, Louis pauses to shoot him a menacing look, watching as Harry bites his lip and swallows, trying to stay quiet. Louis would be more than happy to gag him if need be. He does find this reaction from Harry quite interesting though, and his cock finds it ridiculously hot.

Louis works his way down to Ashton’s left nipple, sucking the hard bud into his mouth, biting down to test Ashton’s pain tolerance. Ashton moans, so maybe he has a bit of a pain kink himself. Interesting. Louis feels like he is in school again, learning something new. They never taught him this shit in school, though. They taught him useless shit like geometry and where to place a comma in a fucking sentence. He would have been much better off with something like ‘Gay Threesome’s 101: How to Get Three Lads Off in One Go’.

Maybe he will write a book after this. He will call it ‘Dick Dick Goose’ or ‘The Three Little Dicks… Fucking’, even though nothing about any of them is little, but between the three of them, they may just blow this house down. So scratch that one. Maybe just ‘The Fuckening’, because at the rate they are going, the world will burn, planets will collide, and they’ll be sucked into a black hole. Although he’d much rather be sucking Ashton’s hole instead. He’ll think of a book title when he doesn’t have Ashton’s nipple in his mouth and his tight hole on his mind, he’s sure of it.

He works his way down Ashton’s body, licking and sucking on the tattooed skin as he does. He takes Ashton’s hard length into his hand, relishing in the feeling of finally getting his fingers wrapped around the soft skin, the bar cool against his own. He pumps his fist, collecting a bit of the precome helping the glide of his hand. He then starts biting and sucking the skin on Ashton’s hips, finally moving to lick the side of Ashton's shaft, the ball of the bar scraping against his tongue with the action. Ashton moans, but he hears Harry growl again. He needs to put a stop to that, because it has gone on far too long. This is his punishment, and he will fucking take it quietly.

“If you don’t fucking be quiet, I will fucking gag you. Don’t make me say it again,” Louis says, looking at Harry with harsh eyes.

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry grits out biting his own lip, hard. Louis goes back to his task, feeling the now desperate need taste. He licks the slit, moaning when he finally gets the salty taste on his tongue. Holy shit. If every Australian delicacy tastes this good, then he is fucking moving there. He will pack his bags right this second. He then places the whole head in his mouth beginning to suck, pulling another moan from Ashton’s sinful mouth. He uses one hand to palm Ashton’s balls, the other reaching up to pinch and tease his already sensitive nipples. He briefly glances over towards Harry, making sure the other boy is watching. His eyes are dark, bobbing up and down to the rhythm of Louis’ own head. Good. He is biting his lip so hard, Louis fears he may start to bleed. Wouldn’t be the first time one of them has drawn blood, though.

Suddenly an idea hits Louis like a dick in the face. It’s genius, and cruel and is going to take a fair bit of physical manipulation, and possibly some mathematical equations and a fucking diagram, but it just may fucking work. He will draw a fucking picture if he has to with annotated dicks, limbs, and assholes in the appropriate places. Maybe even add curly hair to Harry’s depiction. No, that would be confusing because Ashton’s hair is also curly. Maybe just use their initials. Ashton’s will say ‘ADI’ for ‘Ashton Daddy Irwin’. Harry can have ‘NJB’ for Nut Juice Boy. Yes. That would work. No chance of getting either hot and horny curly haired boy mixed up then. Maybe his can say ‘YDIW’ for ‘Yes, Daddy, I will’ since that seems to the be phrase murmured to him most by both men. He’s honestly a fucking genius. Einstein who? He doesn’t fucking know him. He is definitely writing a book. A picture book. With lots of fucking diagrams of this shit, or better still, a pop up book. Complete with hard pierced cocks that may actually put your eye out because it will go down in history. They will teach it in school, he’s sure of it. At least the next generation won’t have to be fucking rocket scientists to have a great sex life.

With an obscene pop, he pulls his mouth away from Ashton's cock, hearing Ashton hiss when the cool air of the bedroom hits the wet flesh. As much as it physically pains him, he pulls himself off of Ashton’s body. “Harry, you will be taking Ashton’s place on the bed,” Louis tells him, looking over at Harry. Harry beams, thinking his punishment is over. It hasn’t even fucking started yet. Louis is only just getting warmed up. In reality, Harry should know this by now, but the boy always tries to see the good in people. Maybe he will finally fucking learn. Louis grabs Ashton’s hand and pulls him up, so he is standing beside Louis next to the bed. They both watch as Harry lays on the bed, head towards the wall, gaze on the ceiling, his long arms spread out to his side. His large feet are on the floor, so he is only about halfway up the bed. Perfect.

Louis then silently position Ashton’s body, so that his knees are on either side of Harry’s head, his face towards the wall, ass on full display. He has Ashton lay his knees on Harry’s biceps, effectively trapping Harry on the bed, limiting his movements and his ability to touch himself. Then, finally, Louis takes his position. He places his knees on either side of Harry’s hips, but doesn’t touch him, his face lined up perfectly with Ashton’s ass. Louis glances down to see Harry looking angry again, the realisation of what’s about to happen finally adding up his head. Good. Now they can finally begin Harry’s punishment.

Let The Fuckening begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Larry Powers and Five Seconds of Sucking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis uses Ashton to teach Harry a lesson, whilst Ashton discovers just how much of a Daddy he really is. Will Harry survive both of them? Or will he succumb to his punishment?

Ashton could feel Harry struggling below him, testing the bounds of his restraint. He hasn’t said his safe word yet, so Ashton assumes he is okay with everything happening. Holy fuck balls. Is Ashton okay with everything happening? He fucking hopes so. He doesn’t want to have to use his safe word and look like a pussy that can’t take it. He stares at the painted blue wall as a distraction waiting for whatever in the fuck Louis has planned. Taking slow, calculated breaths to try and steady his erratic breathing, but he can’t get Louis’ face out of his mind. It’s doing nothing to calm him. He had that mischievous yet ingenious look in his eye earlier, and it is doing nothing to relieve Ashton’s ridiculous hard on. If anything it is only making it worse, if that is even humanly fucking possible. Ashton should contact the nearest research institute and tell them that viagra is null and void at this point, all men with erectile problems need is a good three way ass fucking, and they’ll be good as gold. Maybe show them a picture of Larry for reference. They could cure erectile dysfunction with just a look, it seems. 

His shaft is aching, feeling bereft since Louis pulled away. His mouth is a miracle working machine, and Ashton doesn’t know how Harry has survived this long. Louis had been doing wonders for his impending orgasm, damn near sucking his soul out from his cock and now it was hanging hard and untouched between his legs. He never thought he would ever find himself missing a man’s mouth on his cock, but he supposes there is a first time for everything. No girl he has ever been with has ever been able to suck him half as well as Louis just did, and he has the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t even really trying. Form his current position, his leaking tip is right at the top of Harry’s head, come smearing in his dark curls. His tight balls are hovering just inches above Harry’s red lips, a pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips every so often, as if he just wants a taste of Ashton, but he can’t have it. His breaths are heavy and uneven, the muscles in his neck flexing with it, straining against the black, leather collar until he releases again, the heat from his mouth tickling Ashton’s balls. Ashton has no idea why he finds all of this so fucking hot, but he does. He has learned not to question Larry, at this point. 

He feels the bed jostle as Louis moves to kneel behind him. If he thought his breathing was erratic before it is nothing compared to now. His heart feels like it is going to beat clean out of his chest and air, who is she? Because he certainly doesn’t fucking know her. He thinks he knows what is about to happen, but let's be honest this is the first time he has done something remotely like this, so he can’t be sure. Even his wildest imaginings probably won’t live up to what he is about to do, to what Louis is about to do to him. He has already crossed the threshold of anything he could ever have imagined himself doing sexually, and so far he doesn’t regret a single fucking second. He holds his breath, waiting to find out what Louis is going to do. As if able to read his mind, Louis begins to speak, low and seductive and holy fuck, Ashton may come just from the sound. 

“Are you ready, love? What is your colour?” Ashton thinks that may be the single most erotic thing he has ever heard, has ever been asked, and instead of answering he simply moans, low in his chest, his cock throbbing painfully between his legs. “I need you to answer me, love. Or we can’t continue.”

Colours? Oh yeah, right, he learned those when he was like two. He seems to have forgotten them, though, because the only colour he can picture is green, the same shade as Harry’s eyes. Colour. This should be fucking easy, but he is drawing a blank. Ashton mentally shakes himself. He knows they can’t start until he answers Louis, but Louis is just so fucking hot. Godsdammit, he can’t concentrate. “Yes, yes I’m ready, Daddy.” He finally says, his voice sounding like he has swallowed gravel. 

“And your colour?” Louis asks again, and this time Ashton answers, a little too quickly, maybe a little too eagerly, but he wants to get this show on the road before he snaps out of whatever fucking cock induced trance they have him in, and he runs screaming from the house. Ashton’s mind snaps back to the colour of Harry’s eyes as he answers.

“Green, Daddy, always green for you.” And where the fuck did that come from? Ashton doesn’t know, but if the whispered ‘fuck’ that escapes Louis on a breathy moan is anything to go by, it was exactly what he wanted to hear. Noted. 

“I’m going to start by kissing this divine ass of yours, love,” Louis says then.

“Yes, Daddy. Whatever pleases you,” Ashton replies and ok, honestly where the fuck is this well trained submissive come slut him coming from? Again Louis mumbles, breathing heavily, and then he goes silent. Ashton can’t tell from his current position facing the wall what he is up to. He positions himself a little further up, so Harry’s eyes are level with his ass as he waits, wanting to give Harry a good show since that is the point to all of this. 

It seems like it takes days, when it is really only mere moments, for Ashton to feel a few feather light kisses peppering his ass. His brain is struggling to process what he is feeling, and suddenly he is filled with a sense of doubt. Is this weird? This should be weird. He doesn't think he has ever had someone this up close and personal with his own ass, but he isn’t sure he is complaining, yet. A few more days slip by as Louis continues to use his soft hands to massage his ass, his hot, wet mouth leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. It seems as though time has frozen, suspending him in this never ending sea of sensations that are just too good to be wrong. Just as Ashton is finally getting a handle on what Louis is doing to him, he suddenly stops and begins to speak again. 

“I’m going to use my hands to spread your cheeks, love. Open you up so that I can see you. Then I’m going to taste you. What is your colour?” 

“Gr--green, oh fuck…” Ashton stumbles out because his brain is in overdrive trying to process what Louis has just said. Trying to scramble and mentally prepare himself for something he has never done and never felt. What will it feel like? He doesn’t know, but he is more than fucking ready to find out. 

“Good. Such a good boy for me.” 

It’s then that Ashton feels  _ it _ . He almost slams his knees together, but manages to stop himself because he would have crushed Harry’s skull. Holy fucking shit. Louis just licked a warm wet strip right over his hole, and it feels so fucking good. Better than fucking good. Better than he thought it would. 

Ashton’s hands grip the sheet when Louis does it again, a low moan escaping his lips as Louis spreads his cheeks slowly even further apart with two small hands. He hears Harry growl a second later, prompting him to look at the man situated between his legs. Harry looks murderous again, and for some reason, this turns him on more, knowing just how much Harry is hating this. Jesus. Where are all of these kinks coming from? How did he not fucking know about them before? He isn’t sure he was even living before tonight, and he doesn't know how he will ever go back to boring sex. Boring, cockless, Larry-less sex. He will never un-Larry. Not fucking ever. 

“Harry. I am not going to warn you again. Next time I hear a sound from you, I will gag you.” Ashton hears Louis threaten, not moving his face from between Ashton’s parted cheeks, warm air from his words ghosting over his puckering hole. In response, Harry bites his lip. Hard. Jealousy still in his eyes, watching helplessly as his boyfriend eats another man’s ass meer inches from his face. Ashton decides to go back to concentrating on the wall. Yes, the wall. It is considerably less attractive, which means he may be able to hold off his orgasm and get him through this whole fucking thing. The wall is good. The wall is safe. The wall is his friend. 

He moans when Louis flattens his tongue and licks right over his hole again. He really needs to get used to the sensation, but he isn’t sure he ever will. He isn’t sure he ever wants to get used to it either. Every time feels like the first time, a shockwave of heat and desire shooting straight to his neglected cock and fuck. Just fuck. It should be weird, but it feels so good. He briefly wonders why had never let anyone do it to him before. He has been missing out on life. Fuck.

“I’m going to use my tongue to taste you now, love. Are you going to be a good boy for Daddy and relax, so that I can taste you? I wanna taste that pretty ass of yours,” Louis asks, and Ashton can’t help but nod vigorously before answering him. Like a compulsion he can’t break. At this point, he feels he may just say yes blindly to anything that Louis asks of him. 

“Yes, Daddy. Want you to taste me, need it.” It then dawns on Ashton that Louis has been seeking permission before each activity. That is all fine and dandy, this being his first scene, and first, well pretty much everything, when it comes to having sex with men, but he almost feels as though it is disrupting Louis’ usual flow. As though usually, he would just go for broke, and leave Harry a quivering mess. So in fear of ruining the entire mood, Ashton voices his concerns, hoping it won’t ruin what they have going. 

“May I speak, Daddy?” Ashton asks, trying his best to stay in character for Harry’s sake, not knowing exactly how to do that, but just going with what comes naturally to him. He isn’t sure if he is a sub or a dom, but it is nice to test the waters. See what fits him. 

“You may,” Louis replies against Ashton’s hole, before he continues to lick and suck, his fingers still massaging his cheeks. Ashton momentarily forgets what it is he was about to say as Louis nips at his left cheek before licking over the spot and returning his attention to Ashton’s quivering entrance.

“Fuck…. Daddy-- Daddy, you do not have to say everything you are about to do to me. I know my safe word. I will use it if I need to.” He hopes he hasn’t overstepped the mark, and he hopes that given this is his first time, Louis will go easy on him if he has. He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when he feels Louis chuckle quietly against his hole. Fuck. Holy fuck. 

“Thank you for letting me know, love. I am happy that you are enjoying yourself so far. Such a good boy for me, unlike other boys in the room. And I know I don’t have to tell you, I usually wouldn’t, but how else is our dear Harry supposed to know every. Single. Sinful. Thing. I am doing to you if I don’t? It is what I was going to do to him, after all.” Louis uses kisses, licks and sucks to punctuate his words for emphasis, and Ashton suddenly wants to beg for permission to come. Holy shitballs, this is too fucking much. Louis points his tongue then, after he licks and sucks at Ashton’s most private place a few more times and begins really fucking into him. Ashton feels like he is being possessed. His eyes are rolling back into his head and his mouth is hanging open, as his back bows inwards, his cock brushing the tip of Harry’s nose. 

“That’s it, love. Just relax. Let Daddy take care of you,” Louis says, his voice a strong and steady presence behind him. Ashton glances back, and mistakes. Were. Made. Holy shit. Louis is definitely affected by all of this, even though he doesn’t show it in his voice. His eyes are blown wide and glassy, his mouth and face are absolutely covered with his own spit, having spent the last several minutes chin deep in Ashton’s ass. His firm lips are red, probably from sucking and kissing Ashton’s hole. He is breathtaking, and Ashton thinks he may die at any moment from lack of oxygen and blood to his brain.

“Okay, Daddy,” Ashton responds looking down at Harry.  If looks could kill, Ashton would be a dead dead man... crawling? Given that he is currently on his hands and knees, a slave to everything Louis is giving him. He was worried about Louis killing him all evening for his thoughts over Harry, but it turns out that it is Harry that wants to murder him. Harry is probably plotting all of the ways in which he could make the light leave Ashton’s eyes. He probably wouldn’t be as creative as Louis, but just as painful. The man has a pain kink, so he probably knows what hurts. Goes to show that’s just how fast the night changes. In many fucking ways. Harry balls his big hands up into tight fists, Ashton feeling the muscles in his biceps contract under his knees with the action. In all reality, Harry could have probably caught him off guard and pulled out of his hold, he is stronger than he looks, deceptively strong, but he hasn’t because he is being a good little boy. Holy shit. Where did that come from? Ashton thinks he may actually die if Harry calls him Daddy, too. 

With those words, Louis begins absolutely devouring him, and Ashton has never been so happy to feel like a dessert or something equally as scrumptious in his fucking life. A Lamington, he is a fucking Lamington. A few minutes later, when Ashton is a moaning mess, he feels a small finger prod his hole, a pointed tongue licking around the digit, Louis now having given up on telling him what he is about to do before he does it, opting to just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best. Ashton doesn’t even stiffen because his tongue feels so fucking incredible, acting as a distraction for his finger. Louis continues his task of bringing Ashton to the brink of insanity with just his tongue and finger. Ashton's hips, of their own accord mind you, begin grinding on Louis’ fingers, shoving his ass even further into Louis’ face. 

“That’s it, oh god that feels so good, Daddy,” Ashton moans out, his hard throbbing cock bobbing, hitting Harry’s face as he continues to grind himself on Louis. Harry growls at the word, prompting Louis to remove his face from Ashton's ass. Ashton wants to whimper with the loss, but he is manly and shit, so he just drops his head between his shoulders, sighing heavily, mentally throttling Harry for ruining what had been the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Maybe Louis will let him throttle him later. Preferably using his collar to do so. Fuck he hopes so. He uses the brief interlude to attempt to catch his breath, knowing that Louis is so fucking done with Harry’s jealous bullshit, and he is about to unleash a master plan he’s no doubt been cooking up for the last…. However fucking long they have been doing this for. Harry has had more than enough chances to remain quiet at this point. He must be punished, and Ashton wants so badly to be the one to punish him. To punish his pretty mouth. 

“You know what, love, why don’t you shove your dick down his throat. Give him something useful to do with that mouth of his since he won’t do as he is fucking told and stay quite.” There is a harshness in Louis’ tone, and Ashton knows better than to argue with him when he gets like this. He’s seen first hand what happens when his orders aren’t obeyed. Ashton has a feeling, though, that Harry likes testing his bounds, both literally and metaphorically. Holy shit. How the fuck is Ashton supposed to do this and not come in Harry’s waiting mouth? He gulps as he adjust his position just a tad, so that he has better access, this is his literal thoughts come to life but, fuck. This is a fucking lot.  Ashton taps Harry’s lips once with the head of his cock. Harry looks up at him with fucked out eyes and slowly opens his mouth. Holy shit. 

Ashton gradually feeds his cock between Harry’s parted lips, letting his hand fall back onto the mattress once Harry wraps his lips around his shaft, sucking. He can feel the ball of Harry’s tongue bar pressed against his shaft, creating even more friction. Louis doesn’t even give him warning this time, just uses a pointed tongue to trace over Ashton’s sensitive rim. Ashton hadn’t even gotten used to the sensation of Harry’s wicked tongue on his dick, and Louis had to go an add his own to the equation. They said there would be on maths. Since when did sex involve maths? Apparently, it does, and he is today years old when he finds this out. He is suddenly struck with the realization of how much trust this requires on Harry’s part. He could literally choke him with his dick, the collar already no doubt hindering his breathing a little, and he can’t really do anything about it. Nothing to really warn him. 

“Harry will kick out if it becomes too much. If I tell you to, let up,” Louis tells him, as if reading his mind. Maybe he is. Mind reading is probably just another thing to be added to the list of combined magical abilities that Larry have. It fits nicely between slowing down time and bending the straight boy to the point that he no longer believes he is straight. Ashton will be looking for a fucking unicorn at any moment. Maybe they have one stashed away in their sex dungeon. They most definitely have a sex dungeon. He could probably borrow their pet unicorn and use it to fly home. Unicorns fly right? Or is a flying unicorn called a pegasus? But they don’t have horns do they? He thinks he remembers that in Hercules or some shit. Fuck. He really should have paid more attention to greek mythology. 

“I’m gonna add another finger, okay, love? Make you feel nice and full,” Louis says, breath hot against Ashton's already too hot skin. Ashton can’t even form words, so he just nods, closing his eyes and tilts his head towards the ceiling getting lost in the sensation. He feels it another moment later when Louis slowly adds another lubed up finger, stretching him open. It hurts a bit at first, and feels  _ weird _ , but it’s not  _ unpleasant _ . “Relax, love,” Louis coos, licking around the digits, prompting Ashton to release a low moan. 

“Good boy,” Louis praises when Ashton’s body begins to relax again, thanks to Harry and his desire to suck Ashton’s life force out through his cock. Just another thing to add to the list of Larry magical powers. It is ever growing it seems. Maybe this is how Harry stays looking so young and beautiful. He literally steals it from unwitting men. Like the Sanderson Sisters or some shit, only using men instead of children. Thank the gods because that would be gross, and he would have to nope out and call the coppers or some shit on them. Ashton thinks Harry would be the blonde one. What is her name? Sam? Sara? Fuck, it could be Sebastian for all he knows. Jesus tits, what is it with him and all of these Little Mermaid references? Harry would definitely be the blonde one, with all of his flirtation and magical abilities. Harry’s hotter than any Sanderson sister though, Ashton can admit that, and Sara or Sophie or whichever one she is used to be the stuff of his wet dreams. Not anymore. He briefly wonders then what Harry would look like in a corset. Fucking hell he has to calm the fuck down or he is going to come in Harry’s mouth, and he hasn’t asked permission. 

“Face fuck him. He can take it. In fact, he likes it,” Louis tells him, voice muffled by Ashton’s ass. Ashton doesn’t even think twice about it as he starts thrusting his cock into Harry’s waiting mouth. Harry’s tongue ring scrapes over the bar in Ashton's shaft with every thrust, prompting Ashton to moan in abandon. Louis doesn’t move his fingers or tongue, letting Ashton fuck himself on them. It’s like he is on a seesaw of fucking pleasure. He can’t decide which way he likes more, and both are taking him to the point of no return. 

“That’s it, love. I am going to spread my fingers now, get you nice and open for me,” Louis tells him. Ashton just nods, not being able to currently form coherent sentences. Wait, what? Oh fuck. He is going to be fucked by Louis. That’s what he means isn't it? Holy fucking fuck! He’s not ready. He really isn't, but he fucking wants it. Wants it more than he has ever wanted anything in his fucking life. Fuck. He feels it when Louis starts scissoring his fingers, tongue sneaking between each time Ashton’s hips snap back up. 

“Oh fuck. Please,” Ashton pants, looking down at Harry, and oh shit. Note to self: Never look at Harry when he’s got his big mouth wrapped around your cock. His eyes are watering from Ashton testing his gag reflex, tears streaming down his red cheeks. The same shade of red as his lips. Spit is smeared all over Harry’s face, chin and hollowed cheeks, running out of the sides of his mouth as he takes Ashton deep. His eyes are wide and glassy, glancing down to try to get a glimpse of what Louis is doing. He can’t because the angle is now wrong, but Ashton is sure he is imagining it. 

“Fuck, love, you’re getting him so messy. He loves it. Loves feeling used.” Ashton  _ feels  _ it when Harry nods and hums in agreement at Louis’ words, vibrations going straight to his balls. Ashton is trying to ignore the way that the gagging sound coming from Harry is setting his skin alight. He can’t. It’s too much. Louis continues, and Ashton thinks he may explode at any moment, feeling Louis’ words against his rim, his raspy voice setting his skin on fire. This is… this is a lot. Again, Ashton has no idea how he found himself in this particular position, but he doesn’t fucking care. He makes a mental note to send his would be dater from earlier a fucking Gucci gift basket because he really should thank her. 

“Are you gonna come? Make a mess of our boy?” Louis asks, barely pausing his wicked tongue. 

“Oh. Shit,” Ashton moans, then he remembers the whole fucking reason Harry is being punished. “C--can I? C--can I come, Daddy? Fuck. Please?” Ashton begs then Louis moves his fingers, and what the fuck was that? A jolt of pleasure goes straight to his balls, and holy shit no wonder men like this so much. If he doesn't get permission soon, he will be deceased. Dead. No more. He doesn't think he will go to heaven, because he is already fucking there. 

“Yes, love. Good boy for asking. Come for me,” Louis says, and that’s all it takes. Ashton’s whole body tenses, hole gripping Louis’ fingers like a vice as he finally releases into Harry’s waiting mouth. Spurt after spurt of hot come shoots down Harry’s throat, and he can feel it when Harry gags slightly, not really ready for the pent up load that Ashton had been carrying around for days. He is surprised Harry doesn’t fucking drown on the colossal amount of come he just released and is strangely proud of him. Like he just wants to pet him and praise him and kiss him. 

 

__________

 

Ashton slumps down on top of him, his hot, hard body covering his head like a dead weight, and Harry almost comes as he feels Louis hard cock graze his stomach, finally. He squirms a bit, feeling the fucking ass cork moving inside him, forcing a whine from his body. His brain feels fuzzy, feeling like he is moving in slow motion while the world around him is moving faster somehow. All he can think about is coming, but he can’t do that without permission. He feels Ashton shift a bit, so he is sitting on the bed beside Harry’s head. He closes his eyes in pleasure when Ashton’s hand starts massaging his sore biceps, from being held down. 

“You did so good, baby,” Louis praises, running his small hands up and down Harry’s torso, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Harry preens at the attention, four hands feeling much more like thirteen hands, as they both rub and soothe his aching body. 

“Daddy. Need,” Harry whines, looking desperately between Louis and Ashton, not caring which one of them actually gets him off. 

“Use your words, baby,” Louis tells him, a hint of demand in his tone. Harry tries to focus on Ashton at first, his hazel eyes soft and fucked out, still breathing heavily from his orgasm. Then his gaze wonders over to Louis, and focuses on his blue eyes and freckled cheeks, trying to get his thoughts in some semblance of order. Yes. Louis is asking him what he wants. Surly he can tell him. It is certainly the only thing he has been thinking since his punishment began. 

“Daddy, can I come?” He asks finally, voice gravely and raw from his recent throat fucking. He feels Ashton shiver behind him. 

“Well, baby, since you were so eager before.” Oh fuck. Louis has  _ that  _ look in his eye. That mischievous glint that he gets during scenes that usually never means good things for Harry. Well that’s a lie. It means great things, but Louis isn’t going to make it easy for him. If that makes any fucking sense. Harry isn’t sure he is even making sense to himself at this point. His cock is hard and his balls are aching. Every movement he makes, even breathing, makes the plug press against his overstimulated prostate, causing another jolt of pleasure to rock through his being. Louis looks like he has another plan, possibly even a challenge, and Harry wants to  _ know _ . 

Louis gets up to stand on the floor between Harry’s legs, his knees still dangling off the bed. Ashton also moves to stand beside the bed, so he has Louis in front of him, peering down, and Ashton beside him. He feels small, even though he is the tallest person in the room. Louis’ raspy voice cuts through the fog in his mind, giving him something to focus on besides the ever present need to fucking come. “I will suck you off. For five seconds.” Louis holds up five fingers to emphasize the number, but Harry is stuck on the phrase ‘suck you off’ because that sounds like a great fucking plan, but then the number registers. Five seconds. What the fuck does he mean by that? As if reading his mind, Louis continues. 

“That means you have exactly five seconds to come. If you don’t come in those five seconds, then you won’t come until I do. Do you understand?” Louis asks, eyes boring into Harry. Harry freezes. Five seconds to come? He is really fucking close, but he has never had a set amount of time to do it. Usually he is concentrating on  _ not coming _ which is where his brain has been all night. This is going to be really fucking hard, like harder than his dick. He has to rewire his brain in some way, instead of focusing on not coming, he will need to focus on coming quickly. Fuck. 

“Baby, what’s your colour?” Louis questions, voice soft momentarily like it always is when he asks that question. 

“Green, Daddy,” Harry nods, suddenly wanting to do this. It’s a challenge. It gives his brain something to focus on, helps him stay present when he wants to drift off. Fuck. He is going to do this. He will come in five seconds. 

“Ashton, love, will you count off for me? My mouth is going to be preoccupied,” Louis says, a smirk forming on his lips. He looks towards Ashton who now has a dark look in his fucked out eyes, and he swallows heavily, his voice sounding hoarse and strange, but somehow even fucking sexier than it had before. Fuck. Maybe coming in five seconds won't be as hard as he thought if he has Louis’ hot, wet mouth on his dick and Ashton’s sinful voice helping him along. 

“I’m sure I can manage that,” Is all Ashton says coming to stand beside Louis, running a hand absentmindedly up and down Louis’ spine. Harry watches as Louis’ head lolls to the side, his sapphire eyes closing at the sensation, Ashton bringing his lips down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, playfully licking a stripe up to Louis’ ear, and it takes everything in him not to growl, again. 

Harry has never been the jealous type per se. Not when it comes to scenes like this. He knows this is all part of it. All part of the fantasy that they have built for themselves, but he isn’t sure if he is jealous of Louis enjoying Ashton’s attention, or if he is jealous that Ashton isn’t paying him any. He has been salivating like a rabid dog over Ashton all fucking night, and he has yet to taste him. Yet to touch or to kiss or to mark like he has wanted to. After all, it was his fucking idea in the first place to invite Ashton to join them. Hopefully soon he will be able to get his hands, mouth and other body parts on and in him. 

“First, what do you say we get these off,” Louis says, kneeling between Harry’s parted legs, crawling up over him so that his face is in line with his cock. He pushes his nose into the spot on Harry’s soiled panties, come now dried, breathing in deeply and Harry arches up off of the mattress like a man possessed, unable to control his body at this point. Holy fucking shit. Harry is sure he is going to come again, without permission, and he really doesn’t want to do that. He needs to ask Louis for permission. He has to wait till he is told he can like a good boy. He is always a good boy for his Daddy. Well, most of the time. When Louis stands back up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Harry’s lace panties,Harry nods, lifting his hip to allow Louis to slowly pull them down his long legs, cock springing free of the material. Harry hisses when the cool air hits his overheated skin, and feels it when Ashton’s gaze lands on him. About fucking time. He wants Ashton to look at him, wants his attention almost as much as he wants Louis’. The worst punishment for someone like Harry is being ignored. It feels like Louis is purposely going slow, just to drive him even more insane with lust. 

“Five seconds,” Louis reiterates, holding one hand in Harry’s face then grabs Harry’s thighs, pulling him so that his ass is closer to the edge of the bed. Louis kneels  between his spread legs, getting ready. “Start counting as soon as I get my mouth on him. Baby, this is your permission to come, but only when my mouth is on you, and only in the five seconds I give you. Got it?” Harry frantically nods not trusting himself to speak in that moment, but he knows he has to.

“Yes, Daddy. Five seconds,” he says, and Louis shoots him a wicked smile. Fucking hell. If he can’t come in this five seconds, then he is simply defective and has to have his eyes examined. He has two incredibly sweaty, fucked out men standing before him, and if that isn’t enough to have him coming at a moment’s notice then he is clearly fucking blind. A blind man could come in five seconds with those two in the room, he is sure of it.

Just as Louis bends forward, his breath ghosting over the tip of Harry’s far too hard cock, he sees Ashton move around him, clambering onto the bed behind his head. What the fuck is he doing? He is supposed to be counting for Louis, giving Harry a goal to reach. Louis is now shooting him a questioning look that he can only assume mirrors his own face. Neither of them say anything, and they wait, watching to see what Ashton is up to. Ashton kneels right behind Harry’s head then, looking down on him with a glint in his eye that signifies mischief just like the look Louis had moments before when a wicked plan pops into his head. 

“Lift your head, baby,” Ashton drawls out, looking at Harry before his head snaps up to meet Louis’ gaze, as if asking for permission to give Harry orders. Louis doesn’t say anything; he just smirks back at him with a slight nod of his head.

Harry takes that as the green light to do as Ashton says, and he lifts his head as far as he can off of the mattress. When he does so and his head is clear of the mattress, Ashton uses his collar to pull his head up onto his knees, cradling his head in his hands, before bringing them back down to rest on his knees. Ashton’s soft cock is right above Harry’s head, the tip grazing his hair. He knows Ashton will probably get hard again, if fact, he is making it is mission to do just that in the coming minutes. Literally. Coming minutes. He will be coming in minutes. Seconds even, if he can pull this off. 

“Figured you may want to watch as Daddy sucks that pretty cock of yours. Such a fucking pretty cock baby. Can’t wait to taste you,” Ashton says, and before Harry can really process what the fuck is going on, the words slip from his parted lips like a reflex he can’t control.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Ashton stiffens behind him for mere seconds before he relaxes. Harry  _ feels  _ it when Ashton’s dick twitches. Yes. He will definitely be able to get Ashton hard again, no doubt. He looks at Louis who is now kneeling between his legs. He doesn't look mad at him for calling another man, Daddy. In fact, he looks even more turned on if possible. 

“Ash, as soon as my mouth is on him, start counting,” Louis instructs again, sensing the shift in the dynamic between Ashton and Harry. Ashton is no longer ‘taking Harry’s place’ in this, so he is beginning to shift into a more dominant role. Let’s be honest, Ashton is Daddy as all fuck. Harry has been knew. 

Without any kind of warning whatsoever, Louis’ hot mouth is wrapped around his shaft, sucking hard. 

_ One. _

Fuck. Louis is now swirling a firm tongue around his head, licking his slit. 

_ Two. _

It is wet and warm, feeling like heaven to Harry’s neglected cock. This is the first time he has really been touched all night. When he came earlier, it was untouched just from watching the other men make out. He hasn’t been touched since before dinner, when Louis had been opening him for the godsforsaken plug. 

_ Three. _

_ F _ uck. They are all ready to three. Shit. He doesn't know if he can do this. He is so close, but he has been telling himself  _ not  _ to come all fucking night. Even though he has permission from both men, it is still not easy to get out of the mind set. 

_ Four. _

He tries to concentrate on the wet warmth of Louis’ mouth, but Louis isn’t  _ touching  _ him anywhere else. His hands are just resting on the bed, not on his balls or near his hole. He just needs something else. Fuck he’s close, but he needs  _ something _ .

_ Five.  _

With that last word, Louis pulls off with a loud, wet pop, Harry whining at the loss. He didn’t do it. Fuck. He failed. He failed his Daddy. He failed his Daddies. He feels his cheeks heat up with shame, not wanting to look at either man. Fuck. How could he disappoint them so badly? Twice in one night. He is defective. He has to be. He is fucking defective because he couldn’t come for them. He likes testing his bounds, but not this way. He just wants to fucking come. He is so close. His balls ache with it, so why couldn't he in the allotted amount of time? 

As if Ashton can read his thoughts, he grabs two handfuls of Harry’s hair and forces his head up so that he is staring at Louis, his eyes filled with the disappointment he knew would be there, only he can’t look away. He can’t avert his gaze, and it feels like Louis is boring two holes directly into his very soul, his gaze is so intense. Fuck. Just fuck. He feels like he could cry. He wants so badly to come. He was sure it would be a piece of fucking cake. 

“Please, Daddy. I’m so sorry. Oh, Gods. I’m so sorry. Please give me another chance. I know I can do it this time. I  _ know _ it,” Harry begs, finally releasing the tears that have been building up. He frantically looks back and forth between the two men, trying to tell them that he can do this. He can come in five seconds. 

“I don’t know, Harry. You disappointed us. I gave you five seconds and you couldn't do it.” Louis shakes his head in disappointment, prompting Harry to cry harder. At least it isn’t the ugly crying he was doing earlier, where his face ends up blotchy and his nose gets stuffy. 

“Please. I just-- I need another chance. I p--promise I w--won’t disappoint you,” Harry pleads, looking at both men so that they know he is asking both of them. 

“What do you think, Ash? Should we give him another chance?” Harry tilts his head to look up at Ashton, met with his hazel eyes. Ashton hisses out a small breath as Harry’s hair grazes his hardening cock with the movement. His eyes widen as he silently pleads with Ashton, hoping the other man would somehow have mercy on him. If Ashton says ‘no’, then he is doomed to come again without permission. He knows he won’t outlast Louis. That man can last hours without coming somehow. 

“I think,” Ashton starts, bringing one ringed finger up to his cleft chin to tap it in thought. Harry thinks he is doing it for dramatic effect, but doesn’t say anything, not wanting to get in even more trouble. He just wants to come. Fuck. His head is less fuzzy now that he has something to focus on. A task. A  _ challenge _ . Ashton continues, “He has been a good boy for us for the last couple of minutes. He took my cock so well and swallowed every drop of my come. I think it would be fair to give him one more chance to prove to us he can be a really good boy.” Harry preens at the words, rubbing his cheek against Ashton’s bare thighs, closing his eyes and inhaling his musky scent. He likes Ashton. Ashton can stay. 

“Alright. Five more seconds, Harry, but I am going to up the stakes,” Louis says, and Harry’s head snaps to the other man. He has another mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Harry kind of wants to strangle him, or maybe even be strangled by him. Could go either way at this point, as long as he fucking comes. Harry nods, waiting to hear what Louis has to say. “If you don’t come in five seconds, we will not allow you to come again until  _ both  _ of us have come  _ two  _ more times.” Louis holds up two fingers to emphasize his point. Fuck. Two times. For Louis, that could take literal days. Harry is in a predicament, and he needs to make a decision quickly. 

On one hand, he could decline and just wait for Louis to come once before he will also be allowed to finally have his release. On the other hand, he could take Louis’ bargain, and try to come in the allotted five seconds or suffer the dire consequences. Harry’s brain is far too muddled and fuzzy again to think clearly, so he answers in a way in hopes he doesn’t come to regret in five seconds. “Deal.” 

“Good boy. Same rules. Ash, count off as soon as I get my mouth on him,” Louis says, kneeling between Harry’s knees again, hot breath ghosting over his cock. Harry watches with wide eyes, focusing on five seconds. He can do this. Fuck. At least, he hopes he can. Louis has never come up with his particular brand of torture, but he could see it being implemented again in their scenes. Fuck. He doesn't know if he likes this or hates it. Time will tell. Five fucking seconds to be precise.

Ashton suddenly shuffles on the bed, stretching his body out next to Harry's, one warm hand coming to lay flat on his tattooed chest over his heart. The other hand is in his hair, propping Harry’s head up, so that he can still see Louis with minimal effort. This is… new. Harry thinks he likes where this is going. He feels Louis press his fingers against the plug before he even takes Harry in his mouth, prompting Harry to moan. 

“One,” Ashton says slowly, breath ghosting over Harry’s face when Louis’ mouth wraps around his aching cock. 

“Two.” Ashton is taking longer between numbers, bless him. One of Louis’s hands, comes up to cup Harry’s tight balls. Oh fuck. That feels so fucking good. Harry closes his eyes, concentrating on Ashton’s voice, letting his sexy accent wash over him. 

“Three.” Ashton’s grip tightens in his hair, pulling it hard. Harry moans low and deep, closing his eyes for a split second allowing the sensations to wash over him. He opens his eyes, not wanting to miss Louis taking his cock down his throat all the way, his nose touching the barely there hairs on his groin. 

“Four.” Louis takes that moment to push on the plug that has been between Harry’s cheeks for what feels like centuries. Fuck. Harry is so close, but Ashton is almost to five. Fuck. He needs to do this. He needs to fucking come. 

“Come for us, baby. I know you can,” Ashton whispers in his ear, taking his sweet ass time to say the last word. Gods. Ashton called him baby. Ashton told him to come. Fuck. He just. He needs  _ something _ , and he has no fucking idea what it is. 

“Five.” With that word, Ashton grips onto Harry’s collar briefly cutting off his airflow as he uses it to bring their lips together in a punishing kiss. That's it. That’s what Harry fucking needs. Ashton’s kiss, the cool metal of his lip rings causing a delicious contrast on his overheated skin, a little well timed breath play, and five seconds of sucking. His whole body tenses as he shoots his release into Louis’ waiting mouth, moaning into Ashton’s. Holy fucking shit. Kissing Ashton is everything Harry had thought it would be and more. His lips are full and firm on Harry’s, gentle yet bruising, and Harry can’t fucking ignore how hot it feels to kiss him with those fucking lip rings. Fuck. Maybe when this is all over he can convince Louis to get his lip pierced. He continues to pull at Harry’s collar, just enough to let Harry know that his fingers are still there, they still have control of the amount of air he is able to take into his lungs. Their tongues are delving into each others mouths, tasting, exploring, devouring until Harry’s body stops shaking ,and Louis pulls off of him once more. 

When they finally pull apart from each other, Ashton releases his grip on Harry’s collar, Harry is panting, gasping for air, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, and Ashton simply smiles down at him, flashing his dimples for added effect. Fuck. Fuck it all to hell. Now he knows what it must be like for Louis when he smiles at him. Louis hasn’t said anything like he usually would. Hasn’t praised Harry for being a good boy, and it has Harry confused. 

“Such a good boy for us,” Ashton says in his place, a large hand coming up to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, and it’s then that Harry notices that Louis has moved from his position between his legs, to laying on the bed on the other side of Harry, placing his hand on Harry’s chest, right over Ashton’s. 

He uses one crooked finger to motion for Ashton to come to him as he leans over Harry’s chest. Harry is having trouble working out what the hell is going on, his brain still a little hazy from his colossal orgasm. Ashton is also clearly confused, but leans in, meeting Louis in the middle right over Harry’s chest and face. Louis tilts his head to one side, Ashton quickly realising what he wants, and tilts his head to the other, bringing their lips together. 

Louis is quick to part Ashton’s lips, delving his tongue in, and fuck. Fuck. Harry sees a trickle of his own come drip out of the corner of Ashton’s mouth, trailing in between the grooves of his cleft chin. If Harry thought his dick was spent, he was wrong. Totally and completely fucking wrong. He has never been so wrong in his entire fucking life because, even after two orgasms, his cock is rock hard again in seconds as he watches Ashton lick his come from Louis’ mouth, clearly swallowing the release. Fuck. Harry is dizzy from his recent orgasm, and all of the blood in his body running back down south. 

“We’re just getting started,” Louis says voice high and raspy, releasing Ashton’s mouth with a wet smack, letting both men know that they aren’t even close to being done. Louis has, after all, yet to come. 


	5. Devil Cock Magic and Rotisserie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fukening continues...

After pushing all of the Harry’s come into Ashton’s mouth with his own tongue, Ashton swallows it down, moaning as he does so. Holy fucking shit. He was not expecting that. He isn’t sure what it was he was expecting, but it sure as shit wasn’t Ashton moaning as he swallows Harry’s load. Nope. No Sir. Not that at fucking all. That is hotter than Harry eating his own fucking come if that is at all humanly fucking possible. Louis has no idea how he has survived this long without coming. Sheer will and determination. That’s how. He may also be a sex god. He will just add god to the list along with business owner, tattoo artist, author, illustrator and teacher of all things sex. 

Louis pulls away from Ashton, licking the drip of come that has fallen down Ashton’s cleft, hearing Harry moan from the action. Oh yeah, Harry. Harry is still here too. As if reading his mind, both Louis and Ashton lay down beside Harry, both kissing, licking and sucking at any part of his pale skin that they can reach. Harry writhes and moans with abandon below Louis’ lips and fingers. It does nothing to ease the fact that they have been edging each other for the better part of six hours, and Louis  _ still hasn’t come _ . At this point, it is become a very, very, very  _ big _ problem. 

“You did such a good job, baby. We’re so proud of you,” Louis says, removing his lips from Harry’s skin, running his fingers through his sweaty curls. Harry beams with the attention, eyes lighting up and dimples popping. He is so damn beautiful, it hurts Louis’ chest. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Harry replies, voice low and raspy from Ashton's recent throat fucking. Jesus. Louis could almost come from the sound alone, but he can’t. If he does, then they will take away his title of ‘sex god’, and he just can’t have that. Who ‘they’ are, he has no fucking clue. Maybe like the porn gods or some shit… well no. It would need to be higher than a god. What is higher than a god? Oh yes... Harry. Harry is higher than a god. So yes, a panel of Harry clones will decide his fate as a sex god. 

When he realises both men are looking at him for guidance, he has a brief moment of panic. Fuck. This is a lot of pressure. Nothing compared to the current pressure in his balls, but that is neither here nor there. He is sure that it’s unhealthy to have that much pent up pressure in his balls. What is the correct ball pressure anyhow? Like does that work like car tyres? He is sure they have more than thirty-two PSI that's for fucking sure. There is probably a mechanism of some sort to measure that shit, like a dick-o-meter or a Need-to-Nut Navy Balls Navigator. Like a Navman but for your balls. Fuck. He is going to have to add inventor to his list and resume. He could patent that shit. Make a fucking killing. Then he could simply tattoo in his spare time, and fuck Harry and maybe even Ashton if he is willing, all day, every day instead. Because let's be fucking honest here, who fucking wouldn't want to do that as a full time job? Great. May as well add porn star now. This list is becoming fucking ridiculous. 

His eyes travel from Harry’s to Ashton’s, similar in colour but very different in shape. No one told him that threesomes were going to be the this fucking complicated. If they had, he wouldn’t have done one. Wait. Who the fuck was he kidding? Of course he would have fucking done one. Anyone who has eyes would have taken one look at Ashton and Harry then would have signed their name on the dotted line. They may have also been signing their soul to Mara or some shit, but they probably wouldn’t have fucking cared.  _ Look  _ at them. Fuck. He would spend eternity in the Naraka if it meant having a threesome with these two. 

Then Louis remembers Ashton is open and ready, and fuck. Yes, he knows exactly what they are going to do. He moves off the bed, two pairs of eyes watching his every movement. He looks at them for a second, deciding the best way to go about this. He has never had a fucking threesome before, sue him. There are a lot of limbs, dicks, mouths and asses to be accounted for. He just needs a moment to visualize it. Or a fucking diagram. A diagram would be perfect, but he doesn’t have a dry erase board handy, so he is just going to have to use his imagination. Thank fuck he is a tattoo artist, so he has a decent one. 

“Ashton, I want to watch you fuck Harry,” Louis tells him, grabbing the base of his own dick at the thought. Fuck. He can do this. He can stave off coming for a little while longer. Mind over and matter and all of that shit. However, he doesn't think the matter has ever been not coming. If Harry can do it though, surely he can. Wait. Didn’t he already establish Harry is a sex god? Well, Louis supposes this is the first step to his own sex god-dom. God-dom is totally a fucking word. 

Ashton eyes are wide in what Louis can only assume is fear. Oh yes. Right. Ashton is new to all of this. This would be his first time fucking man. Oh well. May as well start it off with a bang. Literally. There is going to be tonnes of banging by the end of this if Louis has any say in it, which he does. When Louis gestures with his hand, it springs Ashton into action. As Louis’ hand gesture suggested, he gets off the bed completely, standing at the foot. Louis watches as Ashton grabs Harry’s legs, pulling him so his ass is barely on the bed. 

Louis glances to his left, making sure they are lining up. They are. Harry’s breath stutters out when he sees what Louis has lined them up with. A mirror. The large mirrors that make up their closet door. They are all going to to be able to see the entire thing. Louis is a genius, if he does say so himself. Ashton shoots him a pleading look, as if to say ‘what the fuck do I do?’ referring to the plug still nestled nicely between Harry’s cheeks, so Louis decides to provide a bit of instruction. He is a fucking saint, afterall. Saint Louis of Doncaster. 

“It’s ok, love, go ahead. Take it out. Slowly though, he has had it in for quite a while now.” Ashton swallows heavily, and Louis can see his hand shaking slightly as he reaches between Harry’s parted legs towards the rose plug. Louis watches, feeling proud, as Ashton gently removes the plug, Harry hissing out. Ashton is clearly worried that Harry is in pain, when he shoots Louis another frantic look. “He’s fine, love,” Louis assures him, actually watching as Ashton relaxes a bit. 

“He is nice, wet, open for you. All you need to do is line up, and push in slowly. That's it,” Louis tells him, watching as Ashton does exactly as he is told, slowly sinking into Harry’s waiting heat. Harry moans when Ashton’s pelvis becomes flush with his firm ass. Holy shit. Louis thought he would be jealous to see another man inside of Harry, but it turns out he is wrong. Very, very wrong. Watching Ashton’s thick pierced cock disappear inside his boyfriend may be one of the most erotic experiences of his entire existence, and he has seen Harry Styles come untouched and on command. 

Ashton bites his lip, letting Harry adjust for a few moments. Louis just nods once, and Ashton begins to move. Louis’ dick is actually aching now, and if he doesn’t get it in someone soon, he may actually die of Need-to-Nut Navy balls. He didn’t think it was fatal, but he may be proven wrong. He doesn't want to test that theory though, he quite enjoys his life and all of the perks of being him, so he slowly kneels up behind Ashton, bringing his smaller hands to his hips, kissing him gently on the shoulder so as not to startle him. He doesn’t want Harry being hurt if Ashton freaks out. 

He finds the discarded lube easily, and puts some on his fingers. He wants to make sure Ashton is good and ready for his first time, so he slowly circles Ashton’s hole with one finger. Ashton tenses for a split second, then goes back to fucking into Harry, slowly, steadily. Louis slides one finger into Ashton’s already somewhat open hole, meeting only a slight resistance. He wastes no time, crooking it, locating his prostate on the third try, prompting Ashton to cry out in pleasure. He adds another finger when Ashton is distracted, working both in and out, letting Ashton’s own thrusts dictate the speed. Louis finds himself moaning with abandon. Unashamed to show these two beautiful boys what the sight of them is doing to him. Fuck. 

 

_______________

 

Fuck. Ashton knows he has two fingers in his ass, but everything feels so good he can’t find it in him to give a fuck. Harry’s wet heat is wrapped so tightly around his dick, he fears for his circulation, but the blood flow seems to be moving perfectly fine, all of it finding its way to his cock, never to been seen again throughout the rest of his body. He isn’t sure what he should be feeling right now, or what he thought he should be feeling right now. He has to concentrate on not coming in Harry. That is one of Louis’ rules, and Ashton isn’t about to break it, no matter how good Harry feels around him. 

“You look so good fucking him,” Louis says in Ashton’s ear. “Look,” Louis demands, the word sending a shiver down his spine. He looks over to the full length mirrors as he feels Louis scissoring his fingers. Holy fucking shit. He can’t come. He just can’t. Louis will kill him. The sight is the most erotic thing he has ever seen though. He isn’t sure how he is going to stop himself, but he has to. He knows this isn’t the first time tonight that he has had a finger in his ass, but this time there feels like a  _ purpose  _ to what Louis is doing to him. Ashton doesn’t let himself think about it too much, or look back at the mirror too much, afraid that he will run away if he does, if he really stops to think about what it is he is actually doing. He is having the best sex of his life with two incredibly attractive  _ men _ . Something he never thought he would ever do. Not in his wildest dreams, but it just feels so good. Everything feels so good. Why would he ever want this to end? He doesn’t so he pushes all thoughts of societal bullshit and the whys and wherefores of the situation out of his mind and returns to fucking in and out of Harry steadily. Focusing on  _ not  _ coming inside of him for fear of castration. 

“That’s it, love. He likes it a bit rough,” Louis encourages as Ashton takes Harry’s obscenely long legs and puts them over his shoulders, bending the other man in half and fucking into him hard. He feels it when Louis adds a third finger, opening him up even more. He doesn't even pause though, too wrapped up in sensations. All he can feel, smell, and taste is Larry, and he thinks he could spend the rest of his days in the realm of Larry if every experience with them was this good. He wonders briefly how he could make this a permanent arrangement? Do couples have like other partners? Like a boyfriend, in this case, as well as each other? And where the actual fuck did that come from? He wants to be Larry’s boyfriend? He was a straight man a handful of hours ago, and now look at him. He’s fucking Harry while Louis finger fucks him, and he honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend his night.

“You’re taking him so well, baby,” Louis says directly to Harry, his voice raspy but steady. Harry looks at him with wide eyes, then uses his own leverage to meet Ashton halfway. Ashton stills the movement of his hips when he feels Louis’ small hands on them, gripping tightly, fingers sticky from the lube. He looks over his shoulder, and holds his breath. Louis gives him a small smile, as he lines himself up, pressing into Ashton slowly. Holy shit. This is happening. This. Is. Fucking. Happening. This is not a fucking drill, even though he is about to be drilled by Louis. He is about to be fucked for the very first time, and to his surprise, he is ready. He wants this. Wants this more than he thinks he has ever wanted anything in his entire fucking life. He is ready.

Ashton feels like he is being split in half on Louis’ thick cock. He knows only the tip has breached his tight asshole, but it feels like  _ so  _ much more. It is an odd sensation, slightly painful, but not the worst or most unpleasant thing he has ever felt. More strange than anything, like his brain is having trouble processing exactly what he is feeling. Which isn’t a total surprise, at this point. He isn't even sure how his brain his keeping him breathing right now, never mind processing anything else. Fucking Larry and their fucking devil cock magic. Ashton tries not to move inside Harry while Louis is slowly moving himself forward; it’s just so fucking hard. It feels like Harry’s hole is pulling him in deeper, tempting him to move. Holy shit. It’s almost as if Harry is deliberately clenching around him. Wait. Is he doing it deliberately? Fuck, he hopes so. 

Louis squeezes his hips again, when he has fully entered him, giving him a few moments to adjust. Louis is breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling against Ashton’s back. The growl that comes from deep his chest is the only indication that Louis is even affected by this. He needs to learn his secrets, because Ashton has been moaning for the past… well he isn’t fucking sure how long. He has already established that Larry seems to be able to control time. Doctor Who, who? No, it’s just Larry, it seems. They probably have a fucking blue box hidden in their sex dungeon along with a unicorn or pegasus or whatever the fuck it was. 

“Move,” Louis growls out in his ear, and Ashton feels like he has to comply. This is not a request, although he doesn’t think he would have been able to refrain from moving  for much longer anyway, with the way that Harry is squirming and panting below him, practically begging him to move again with big green, pleading eyes. So, Ashton does the only thing any normal man in his position would do. What the fuck? There aren’t many normal men in his position. He knows they haven't invented the threesome, but not many people are ever actually sandwiched between two men that could easily be models. If they didn’t have so many tattoos, Harry could model for fucking Gucci or some shit, and Louis could model for Adidas or Burberry even. Ashton feels like his brain is starting to shut off, his body’s natural instincts kicking in. He starts to move and holy shit. 

“Fuck,” Ashton moans out. It burns where Louis is splitting him open, but not in a bad way. Maybe Ashton has a bit of a pain kink after all. Who knew? Well, Larry knew it seems. They seem to know more about Ashton in the mere hours they have spent together than he knew about himself. Was that already on his mental list of their superpowers? Fuck, he doesn’t remember at this point. All he can think about is Harry’s tight heat, squeezing him like a vice, and Louis filling him up. His brain can barely process the sensations going on around him, much less think about the secret powers of Larry. 

“That’s it, love. Fuck him and me,” Louis says from behind him, voice raspy from desire. Ashton begins fucking harder, bending over to drive himself deeper into Harry. It changes the angle of Louis’ thrusts, and fuck. What the fuck was that? A spark of pleasure shoots through his entire body. He has felt it before. It must be his... What was it called? Prostate? Yeah, he thinks that’s what it’s called. Regardless, the change of angle means that Louis is hitting it with every single one of Ashton’s thrusts sending shock after shock of pleasure through his system. He isn’t sure what feels better, at this point: fucking into Harry or being fucked by Louis. He feels like he is on a seesaw of pleasure, and he needs to distract himself before he comes. He isn’t allowed to come. So distraction. Fuck. 

“Feels so good, Lou, splitting me open,” he mummers, concentrating on not looking in that godsforsaken mirror nor letting his balls explode. That just seems painful and like a mood killer. He then looks down at Harry, letting the words flow from his mouth of their own accord. “Gods, baby, you feel so good wrapped around my dick.” Where the fuck was this coming from? Ashton never thought himself to be good at dirty talk, but here he was, spewing filth. Fuck. He is learning so fucking much about himself tonight, it seems. Harry moans in response, squirming and writhing beneath him. He grabs harry’s hips with both hands, squeezing tight and holding him down as he begins to fuck harder. 

“That’s it, love. You’re gonna make me come soon if you keep this up. Want my come?” Louis asks, and holy fucking shit, yes. Yes, Ashton does want his come. He didn’t know how much he wanted it until this very fucking moment, but he isn’t going to question it. He knows they discussed condoms, and Louis isn’t wearing one, but he trusts him. 

“Yes. I want it. I need it,” Ashton breathes out, eyes closed as he wills himself not come. He then cracks them open and makes the mistake of glancing in the mirror. Holy fuck. He barely recognizes himself as he uses every single muscle in his body to fuck into Harry then back to Louis. Harry’s skin looks pale in contrast to both his and Louis’, long legs still draped over Ashton’s shoulders. Louis is gripping Ashton’s hips, not moving much, allowing Ashton to do all the work and control the pace. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t fucking come. He can’t come, so he closes his eyes again, willing himself not to. This is the absolute hardest thing he has ever had to do, pun intended. 

“Keep fucking us. I’m so close,” Louis moans out, voice broken as his small fingers grip Ashton’s hips, probably leaving bruises. Ashton fucking seconds that. He is so fucking close, he could scream. It is taking all of his will power not to fill up Harry’s tight heat with his own release. He never imagined fucking a man would feel this good. Never imagined being fucked by a man would feel this good, but both is happening, at the same godsdamned time. He needs Louis to come, and soon, because he doesn’t know how much longer his cock can take this torture. 

“Fuck. Fill me up. Need it. Need your come,” Ashton says, hearing Harry moan below him. He looks at the mirror again and mistakes were fucking made. Why in god’s name does he keep fucking do that? It never ends well. Harry is gripping the sheet in his big hands, eyes wide with pleasure. Ashton has him practically bent in half, but he isn’t complaining. In fact, he looks like he is enjoying it. Holy shit. Everything's happening so quickly, yet in slow motion. Ashton suddenly has an overwhelming urge to come, but he can’t, so he does the only think he can think of. He grabs Harry by the leather collar adorning his neck, and pulls his lips to him in a heated kiss. 

“Fuck. Oh gods! Fuck! Fuck!” Louis screams, and Ashton can almost  _ feel  _ Louis’ cock pulse inside of him from his release. Ashton keeps his movements tiny as he works Louis through it, kissing Harry hard and fast, teeth clacking and spit flying. Harry moans into the kiss, probably tasting himself on Ashton’s tongue, which makes the whole thing even hotter. When Louis’ hips still completely, Ashton’s do too, unsure of what Louis will want to do next. He does however give himself a mental pat on the back for not coming inside Harry. Who knew he would be able to control his orgasm because he sure as shit didn't. 

Ashton breaks the kiss when he feels Louis slowly pull out, tapping Ashton on the hip, a silent command for him to also pull out of Harry. Thank fuck, because Ashton was about 2.8 thrusts away from coming. Ashton grips the base of his own dick as he slowly pulls out of Harry, happy that he didn’t spontaneously combust. He freezes when he feels Louis’ finger on his hole, just resting there, not pushing in or anything. Louis then grabs Harry’s wrist, pulling the other man out from under him. Ashton knows Louis has something planned but can’t for the life of him figure out what that could be. When Harry is out from under him, Louis pushes him with his free hand so that he is on his hands and knees once again, facing the wall. This feels strangely familiar, only time, he doesn't have a writhing and moaning Harry trapped beneath him. 

 

__________

 

“Baby, I got him all dirty.” Harry watches Louis’ mouth move with the words, his lips dark and pink, the blue in his eyes almost completely gone with his arousal. Harry’s brain is a bit fuzzy from the recent rough fucking, breath play, and desperate need to come. He feels like he is processing information at a slower pace than normal. Dirty? Who’s dirty? Is he dirty? Well, yes, he has been told that he can be a dirty boy, and he does love getting dirty, however, Harry doesn’t think Louis is referring to him. He must be referring to Ashton. Oh! Louis came in him. He knew that. Louis’ sounds alone were a dead giveaway. This should upset Harry, but it doesn’t. In fact, it is kind of hot. “I think I will let you clean him up.” 

“How?” Harry asks, his brain not quite able to work out exactly what his daddy wants him to do. He glances over at Ashton, who’s ass is in the air, Louis’ finger still on his hole, shielding it from view, which really is such a fucking shame. Harry’s hasn’t really gotten to see it yet, but if it is as pretty as his cock, then it will be a lovely sight to behold. 

“Eat my come out of his ass,” Louis responds, voice strong and commanding. “I don’t want him to get too dirty, so I have been keeping it in, but it has to go somewhere. So eat it. Will you do that?” Harry glances at Ashton again, his hazel-green eyes wide with desire and understanding. 

“Yes, Daddy, I will” Harry responds, not even taking a second to hesitate. Of fucking course he will eat his Daddy’s come out of Ashton’s delectable ass, he’s only been gagging to get close to it all fucking night. This may just be the best anniversary present Louis has ever given him, and he makes a mental note to give him a spectacular morning wake up call for the next twenty eight years to thank him.

Harry watches as Louis slowly but surely removes his finger from Ashton’s now loose, glistening hole, his eyes going as wide as saucers when a dribble of Louis’ come runs between Ashton’s parted cheeks and down onto his balls. Harry can’t help but swallow hard, his cock twitching in interest at the glorious sight before him. He is so impossibly hard. He needs to come so badly, but he won’t, not without Louis’ permission. Louis nods at him then with a smirk firmly on his face, and Harry inches closer to Ashton.

When his nose is almost touching Ashton’s hole, he inhales deeply, letting the smell of Louis’ come and Ashton’s sweat fill every fibre of his being. “Oh fuck,” he whispers against Ashton’s balls, and if both himself and Ashton manage not to come from this, it will be a fucking miracle. Bigger than any other miracle that has supposedly happened in the history of humankind. The parting of the Red Sea who? Harry doesn't fucking know her. The parting of Ashton’s ass more like. It is way more glorious than the Red Sea and such a fucking miraculous site to behold. 

“Go on, baby, don’t be shy,” Louis encourages, watching Harry inch even closer, licking his lips in anticipation. Harry wets his lips once more before his tongue breeches them to lick the trail of come up over Ashton’s balls, all the way up to his hole, before completely devouring him. He suddenly feels an overwhelming hunger. A hunger that no amount of food can sate. A hunger driven by his need to eat his fill of Ashton’s ass and Louis’ come, and he will not stop until Ashton is a quivering mess below him. Harry would know. He’s had Louis in that exact state more times that he is able to count. As if knowing that Ashton won’t be able to hold out, won’t be able to stop himself from coming, Louis moves around Harry, so that he can get better access to Ashton’s cock, gripping the base of his cock like a vice, essentially making it damn near impossible for him to physically come from what Harry is doing. Oh sweet baby Jesus, Harry could fucking kiss Louis right now, because now he has no limits, no hindrance. He is free to eat, lick and suck at Ashton’s asshole until Louis says otherwise. This will be Ashton’s true test. If he can survive this, he can survive anything. 

“You like it when my boyfriend eats you out,” Louis asks directly into Ashton’s ear. Ashton nods in agreement, probably not being able to form coherent sentences. This urges Harry on as he pushes his tongue past Ashton’s loosened ring of muscle. It’s not hard to get his tongue all the way in. He moans when he can taste Louis on the tip of his tongue, Ashton’s own taste mixed in. 

“I knew you would. You’re a dirty boy. Love being eaten out by another man’s boyfriend. It’s happened once already.” Harry hears Louis say. He glances up to see Louis’ small fingers are gripping Ashton’s hair, tight, forcing the other man to look at the mirror and watch as Harry devours him. Harry takes that moment to hook his tongue, finding Ashton’s swollen and over stimulated prostate. Ashton practically screams, his entire body stiffening. 

“Daddy, can I use my fingers?” Harry asks, wanting to get as deep as possibly, wanting to really show Ashton what he can do. Show his daddy that he can be a good boy, even though he was bad earlier. He looks at Louis with wide eyes. Louis’ own gaze is fixated on the mirror, watching as Ashton’s eyes dart from watching Harry to maintaining eye contact with Louis. Louis is still gripping the base of Ashton’s dick, effectively keeping him from coming. Ashton may as well be wearing a cock ring at this very moment. He is sure Louis would have grabbed one if he foresaw this happening, but no one could have predicted the night to go this way. Harry isn’t complaining, though. Not even a tiny fucking bit, because he has gotten to come twice and just a few seconds ago, his tongue was shoved so far in Ashton’s ass, he could feel his heartbeat. 

“Of course, baby. Do whatever is necessary to eat every drop of my come,” Louis responds, eyes landing on Harry.  _ Whatever is necessary.  _ Harry likes the sound of that. Harry brings two fingers up to Ashton’s hole, circling the area first, teasing the other man. After Louis’ cock, Harry’s fingers should be easy for Ashton to take, so Harry slowly lets them sink in, until the cool metal of his rings are hitting the warm pink skin. Ashton moans when Harry wiggles his fingers a bit, feeling Louis’ warm sticky come on the tips. Holy fuck. 

“He’s tight, isn’t he?” Louis asks, eyes on the mirror, gaze glued to the image of Harry’s fingers buried deep in Ashton. Ashton has his eyes closed, but Louis grips his hair hard, forcing Ashton to open them. Their gazes lock in the mirror, as Harry slowly lowers his mouth back to Ashton’s hole, not dropping eye contact for even a second. Ashton’s expression is caught somewhere between pain and pleasure, his blond brows drawn, mouth open into a small ‘o’. Harry knows that expression. He has probably had it at least ten times tonight alone, and the devious side of Harry wants to make it worse. He doesn’t drop his eyes as he he uses his free hand to grip Ashton’s cheek, poking out his tongue obscenely. Ashton looks almost enraptured by the site, as if he couldn’t break it even if he tried. 

“Oh. Fuck,” Ashton moans out as soon as Harry’s long tongue touches the skin around his fingers. Harry slowly withdraws his fingers scissoring them, then licks between the spread digits, again tasting Louis’ come. “Holy shit,” Ashton breaths out, the words going straight to Harry’s neglected cock which is hanging painfully between his legs. Ashton’s eyes are now shiny with unshed tears, blinking rapidly as if it will stop them from coming. 

“Watch him,” Louis tells Ashton, when his hazel eyes slip shut again at the sensation. Harry watches as his eyes snap open again, watery gaze fixating back on Harry’s fingers and tongue. Harry can’t suppress a moan when he licks between his fingers again, tasting more of Louis and Ashton, the mixture addicting. Fuck food, water, or drugs. Harry is sure this is all he needs to survive for the rest of his life. Ashton’s ass that is full of Louis’ come. A hedonistic drug that he never wants to kick. Nobody in the fucking world could blame him if they tasted it. They would be addicted too, but Harry isn’t much for sharing. 

“Do you wanna come, love?” Louis asks Ashton. Harry glances up from his treat just in time to see Ashton nod vigorously, fat tears now streaming down his face. “Well too fucking bad. You’re not going to. Not yet.” Harry continues his pursuit of licking every single microliter of Louis’ release out of Ashton's hole. Ashton whimpers, actually whimpers at Louis’ words, whole body shaking with the need to come. Every muscle in his legs, arms, and back are contracted, his hole tightening around Harry’s spread fingers, but Harry won’t let him close too tightly. He keeps him open so he can continue to lick.  

“You’re doing such a good job, baby. You’ve almost got it all,” Louis praises, eyes landing back on Harry. Harry can feel himself preen at the compliment. He is doing a good job for his daddy. That’s all he ever wants. He is getting to the point that he can no longer taste Louis’ come, which makes him a sad panda. Harry gives Ashton a few more firm licks, tongue grazing over Ashton’s spot over and over. Ashton screams again tears continuing to stream down his face, hitting the bed spread below. His hold is tightening up around Harry’s fingers, but he is merciless in his pursuit, keeping his digits spread his tongue delving deeper and deeper with every lick. 

“Oh. Fuck. Oh. God. Please. Please. Please,” Ashton chants, rocking back onto Harry’s face, but Louis grips his dick hard, stopping his movements. Harry almost feels sorry for him, but he knows that Ashton’s release will be worth it in the end. He hopes so at least. After a few more licks for good measure, he pulls his face away.

“I think you got it all, baby. You did so good. I’m so proud,” Louis says, when Harry looks at him. He can feel the spit slowly beginning to dry on his face, mixing with Louis’ come, but he doesn't move to wipe it away, wanting to feel dirty. “You however look like a dirty, dirty boy. Whatever shall we do about that?” Louis questions to no one in particular. Harry moves to answer but is cut short by Ashton’s now raspy voice.

“Come here, baby, let me clean you up for Daddy.” Fucking hell. He sounds so fucked out, and Harry really, really needs to come again. His dick is so hard between his legs, neglected and needing to be touched, but he knows better than to do anything about his current predicament without Louis’ say so. He will just be punished again, and while he normally likes punishment in the form of pain, tonight was a whole different story. 

Louis doesn't say anything in response, he merely stares at Ashton, who is still on his hands and knees, looking back over his shoulder at the pair of them with a fucked out and glazed over look on his face. His hair is a tangled mess of curls, and he looks wild, primal. It may just be the second most erotic thing that Harry has ever seen. Louis is definitely and always will be the most erotic thing he’s ever seen, even when he is doing something as mundane as the fucking dishes. The fact that he does so naked in a pink frilly apron has nothing to fucking do with it. Ashton looks to Louis then, silently asking for permission, and Harry can do little else than stare between them, watching to see what Louis will do.

“I do love it when he is a dirty boy for me,” Louis muses out loud, “but I think I’d prefer to watch you clean him up.” Harry swallows heavily because holy fucking shit this is a side of Louis he rarely gets to see if ever, and well, Ashton’s mouth is about to be all over him, and he isn’t fucking ready. His poor neglected cock isn’t fucking ready either. Ashton moves from where he is kneeling, seductively crawling towards Harry, his cock bouncing thick and heavy between his legs, the silver bar gleaming in the light of the room. Harry knows what that cock feels like inside him. What the silver bar feels like rubbing against his walls, occasionally caressing over his spot. 

Harry’s throat feels like the Sahara, and he is struggling to drag air into his lungs as Ashton inches closer to him. Soon Ashton is kneeling in front of him, Louis standing over them, slowly stroking his now hard cock, obviously affected by watching his boyfriend eat his own come out of Ashton. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he takes in the sight in front of him. Fuck. Harry may just spontaneously combust if he doesn’t come soon, and the way that Louis and Ashton are looking at him isn’t helping matters. Not one tiny fucking bit. Nope. Ashton is staring at him so intensely that Harry feels as though he is staring into his very soul. It’s almost unnerving, but simultaneously is sending shockwaves of desire straight to Harry’s cock. 

“Come here, baby.” Harry vaguely hears Ashton saying, and before he can think twice about what he has been asked, Ashton has a hold of his leather collar, bringing his lips crashing down onto Harry’s. Harry closes his eyes at the sensation of his airway being cut off yet again, letting his natural instincts take over, and kisses Ashton back. It’s not the first time he has been kissed by the man tonight, but each time seems to get better. As if Ashton is becoming more confident in himself in what they are doing. If this is Ashton not confident, Harry can’t wait to see him when he is. His dick twitches again at the thought of a commanding Ashton, knowing what he wants and taking it.  

“Fuck me.” Harry hears Louis breath out on a moan as Ashton uses his mouth and tongue to rid Harry’s face of the spit and come that had gathered there. Harry can’t stop the moan that escapes him, it rolls out like rumbling thunder. He doesn’t miss it when Ashton’s grip on his collar tightens, his airway beginning to be cut of a fraction at a time the more worked up that Ashton gets. As if reading Harry’s mind, Ashton lets go of the collar, grabbing Harry up in his muscular arms and pulls him flush against his body, his hands finding their way into Harry’s curls.Their cocks rub together causing a delicious friction as Ashton continues to lick into Harry’s mouth, using his tongue to divest Harry of every last vestige of Louis’ come. Ashton pulls away, too soon, if you ask Harry, but not soon enough if you ask his cock when he isn’t allowed to be fucking coming. 

“Look, now you’re all clean,” Ashton muses, meeting Harry’s eyes with a smirk on his lips. His face is shiny with his own spit, the prominent cleft in his chin making a shadow, the high points gleaming. His sandy curls are a mess from both Harry and Louis’ fingers. Harry briefly wonders if there is sand on the beaches of Australia that would match the shade of those curls, and decides that if there are, he would like to see for himself. His firm lips are kiss bitten red, and he has a few marks blooming on his skin, probably from Louis when he was torturing Harry. The purple a gorgeous contrast to the golden hue of his skin. He looks devastating. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Harry responds, eyes cast down submissively. His fingers are itching to touch Ashton’s hard, purple cock, but he knows he shouldn’t. Ashton can’t come yet, but fuck does he want him to. He wants to feel it in his mouth again, wants to taste it. It would be even better now that he has the taste of Louis on his tongue, invading his senses. 

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Louis says then, and Harry can see the mischievous glint in his eyes that he loves so much. Louis is clearly up to something and Harry can’t wait to find out what he has planned now.  

“What?” Ashton asks, clearly confused by the question and the look in Louis’ eyes. Harry thinks he knows where this is going, and if he is correct, sign him the fuck up. He has always wanted to do this. Has always wanted to feel used in the ultimate way, but they have never had a third to accomplish it with. 

“Rotisserie,” Louis dead pans. “I feel like Rotisserie.” 

Harry’s cock stiffens even more with the words. Fuck yes. If Harry doesn't come soon, he may die. By the look on Louis’ face, soon is getting sooner. 

 


	6. Dirty Mirrors and Queen Freddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter and we can not thank you enough for sticking with us through this. There will be another sequel eventually, when the timezones aren't fucking us with no lube. Thank you so much for your patience and kind comments. We love each and everyone of you.

A feeling of what could only be described as elation takes over Harry’s entire being at Louis’ words. Fucking finally. He is going to be used by not one but two men. Two incredibly hot men. Best. Anniversary. Ever. He doesn’t know how Louis will top this next year. An orgy maybe? Nah, he doesn’t foresee that ever happening, but then again, it seems the piggies are flying this evening. Harry glances towards Ashton, confusion still marring his features, then it dawns on Harry. Ashton doesn’t know what a rotisserie is. Well he is about to get a crash course in chicken roasting, Harry being the chicken of course. 

“First, though, I think I need to be nice and wet for Harry. Don’t you think, Ash?” Louis asks, blue eyes landing on Ashton. Ashton seems confused at first by this latest turn of events. Harry can see the exact moment it dawns on the other man what Louis is suggesting, his hazel eyes widening with the realisation. Louis looks down at his hard cock, pointedly, gripping himself at the base. Ashton swallows, but gets on his knees on the bed anyway, despite looking almost terrified by the prospect of what he is about to do. 

“What do I get to do, Daddy?” Harry asks, making sure he isn’t misbehaving in any way. It feels weird to sit and watch, being used to always being the person to do things for his Daddy. To make his Daddy happy. 

“Watch,” Louis responds, the word coming out harshly, making Harry flinch. He knows his Daddy doesn’t like to be questioned, so Harry bites his bottom lip to stop another question from slipping out. His brain feels fuzzy. He has been fighting going under all night, but he thinks the rotisserie will throw him over the edge into oblivion. “You can instruct if you want. Tell Ash just how Daddy likes it.” A task. Harry has a task. That helps. He can do this. He knows what his Daddy likes. Ashton looks unsure and petrified, now situated between Louis’ parted legs. 

“Well-- first, Daddy likes it when you hold his cock with a firm hand,” Harry instructs. It feels weird talking, since Louis is usually the one doing all of the talking. He licks his now very dry lips and swallows the sand that has suddenly formed in his throat, concentrating on the task at hand, or in Ashton’s hand as it were, and on not coming without permission. Never coming without permission. He has already done that once tonight, he doubts it would end well for him if he was to do it a second time, despite the fact that he feels as though his balls may explode at any given moment. 

“Okay, now, he likes to have a bit of a warning first. Don’t go straight in, but lick the tip lightly, letting him get used to the sensation,” Harry tells Ashton, who is looking more and more scared by the second. Ashton takes a deep breath, rearranging his limbs into a more comfortable position as he kneels over Louis’ hard cock. Harry licks his lips in anticipation, pretending that his mouth is Ashton’s as the other man sticks out a tentative tongue, licking right over Louis’ slit. 

“You are doing so well, Daddy. That's just how Daddy likes it. Now, circle the head with your tongue, get it nice and wet,” Harry instructs, barely suppressing a moan as Ashton’s tongue comes out again, doing as he was told. It feels odd to be in an almost dominant role, instructing Ashton on how to best please his Daddy. However, it’s a total fucking turn on that he wasn’t expecting. Harry may also be slightly confused, now calling both Louis and Ashton, Daddy, but he hopes that they understand who he is referring to. Harry can actually see the saliva on the tip of Louis’ cock now as he watches Ashton’s tongue move over Louis’ head, it glistening in the light of the room. It’s not his spit though, for once. It’s Ashton’s. It still feels submissive though, despite the fact that he is giving Ashton the instructions, like he is still trying to please his Daddy even from a foot away, just pleasing him through someone else. As if Ashton is a marionette, and Harry has control of the strings. 

“Good, now trace the vein on the underside with your tongue, get the shaft just as wet as the head.” Harry feels like he is writing a romance novel with his descriptions. A very, very dirty romance novel, that is renowned for its smut. Hell, he feels like he is  _ in  _ a romance novel, this very scenario only coming from his wildest fantasies. He tries not to dwell on his new found philosophical crisis, as he watches Ashton’s pink tongue trace the blue of Louis’ vein. Holy shit. He thought he would be feeling jealous at this point, but he’s not. Instead his neglected cock is twitching uncontrollably. And is he panting? Holy fuck. He’s panting and sweating, and all he is doing is watching. There’s a lot to be said for voyeurism. 

“Sink down on it. Slowly. Take your time. Relish the warmth of his cock. Enjoy the heaviness on your tongue.” Where the fuck are these words coming from? He really needs to put down the late night Mills and Boon books before he completely ruins dirty talk for everyone. Judging by Louis’ moan, he doesn’t seem to mind it though. Ashton slowly, very, very slowly, wraps his sinful mouth around the head of Louis cock and begins sinking down, stopping about halfway. He probably has one hell of a gag reflex, having never sucked a cock before. Harry won’t fault him on that. 

“It’s okay if you can’t take it all, just wrap your hand around what you can’t reach,” Harry says, mesmerized by the sight of Ashton’s long, ring clad hand coming up to wrap around the base of Louis’ cock. “Good. You are doing so fucking well, Daddy. Now, use your free hand to play with his balls, he loves that,” Harry breaths out, his words coming out in a breathless moan. He actually sees Ashton nod his head and hum in understanding, the action making him bob up and down on Louis’ cock. Louis moans with it, gripping the sheets tightly. 

“Keep bobbing your head, up and down, just like that. Humming is good too. He likes the vibrations,” Harry tells him, watching as Ashton does just that, quickly finding a rhythm he is comfortable with. Harry can almost feel Louis’ heavy cock on his own tongue, can almost taste Louis’ salty precome. It’s a heady mixtures of thoughts and feelings, watching as if outside of his own body. Surprisingly, he finds the idea of telling Ashton how to please Louis, and watching as he does so, incredibly arousing. Fuck he needs to come. 

“Pull off,” Louis growls out, his voice breaking into Harry’s consciousness, pulling him back to Earth and grounding him. That is why Louis got the rope tattoo earlier, while Harry choose the anchor, afterall. Harry blinks his eyes, focusing them back onto the scene in front of him, in time to see Ashton pull of Louis’ cock with a wet pop. Louis is panting, his golden skin slick with sweat, his sapphire eyes blown wide. Ashton doesn’t seem to be faring much better, seeming to be equally as turned on as Harry and Louis are. Good. At least Harry isn’t the only one who’s balls my spontaneously combust at any second.

Without another word, Louis clambers unceremoniously off of the bed, coming to stand in front of the mirror. He grabs Harry’s hand as he passes him, pulling him towards him, kissing him sweetly. Harry feels a thrill go through him with the thought of what he knows is coming, and who he hopes will be coming. Please Queen Freddie let it be him.  _ Please _ . It will be all of them if he plays his cards right. Louis breaks the kiss then, just as abruptly as it began and smiles at him. His crinkly eyed, devastatingly handsome smile that makes Harry’s knees want to buckle. Harry assumes he will be getting down on them momentarily, but when he goes to drop, Louis stills him. 

He grips his hips harshly, and turns Harry around. Harry gasps in surprise, but goes without question, gripping onto his shins for support. He does a lot of things that Louis asks without question, always having trusted the other man completely. He feels Louis’ small hand on his neck, wedging two fingers underneath his collar, pulling on it ever so slightly, forcing another gasp from deep in Harry’s throat. Fuck. Harry almost comes from the onslaught of sensations, but wills it away with sheer determination to please his Daddy above all else. He can do this. He can stave off his orgasm for Louis. He must. Louis then flattens his hand and pushes Harry roughly, so that he is bending at the waist, his body facing side on to the the wall of mirrors.

Harry can feel Louis’ small, sure hands kneading the plump flesh of his ass. It sends tingling waves of pleasure coursing over his skin with each movement of his hands and Harry shivers. “You have such a pretty ass, baby,” Louis says, punctuating the sentence with a firm slap on Harry’s left cheek. Harry bites his bottom lip, hard, to keep from crying out, feeling addicted to the sting already. Louis delivers a few more sharp slaps in quick succession, each point of contact getting harder, the sound of Louis’ hand connecting with his ass ricocheting around the room. 

Harry chances a glance at the mirror, finding that the skin on his backside has turned and obscene shade of red, matching the color of his lips. His dick twitches at the sight of himself bent over in front of Louis, getting his ass spanked. He can see Ashton watching from the background, his hazel-green eyes trained on the sight being reflected back at him. He is gripping the base of his dick as if he is afraid he is going to come at any moment, the head an angry purple red shade, only made more prominent by the glinting silver bar that adorns it. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Harry moans, the last word sounding obscene when Louis lands another smack on his meaty flesh. The sensations are killing him. He can feel himself slipping further and further under with the pain, with anticipation of being used. Both of his holes are about to be simultaneously filled with cock, both long, thick and waiting to tear him apart at the seams. Harry shivers involuntarily at the thought. The skin on his bum is burning and stinging from Louis’ hands making contact. He can see the red, raised outline of some of Louis’ handprints marking him. Yes. Fuck yes. He needs to be marked. Needs to be reminded of who his Daddy is, and who he belongs to.  He wants to remember this moment every time he sits down or moves for the next few days, and it seems that Louis has ensured that. 

“Spread those gorgeous legs for me, baby. I know it won’t be easy for you to stay like that, but I know you can do it,” Louis tells him, so Harry spreads his legs enough so that his hole is exposed and even with Louis’ cock. He can almost feel it ghosting against his rim. He knows it’s not, but it is so fucking close. Just another inch or two really. His legs are already aching from the position he is in, but if his Daddy says he can do it, then he can fucking do it. He knows he can. 

“Ash, he is gonna need someone to hold on to, to make it easier to hold his position. Come over here,” Louis directs, and Ashton scrambles off the bed, as if it is now made of lava, eager to comply. He comes over to stand in front of Harry, his hard cock dangling in front of his face, the delectable silver bar almost seeming as though it is winking at him. Harry needs to taste it. Needs to feel it in his mouth, on his tongue, again. He will taste it, when his Daddy gives him permission to. Fuck. He hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long. Ashton takes both of Harry’s hands then, moving them from their place on his shins and settles them onto his hips. This definitely helps with his balance and is definitely a much nicer alternative to gripping onto his own shins for support. Ashton may be the only thing that will keep Harry standing throughout this, and he can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation. 

“Harry. Where are your manners?” Louis says tutting from his place behind him, and what? What the hell did Harry do wrong this time? It’s getting harder and harder to keep track of Louis’ the deeper into this they get, pun intended. Oh gods, he has disappointed his Daddy, again. He meets Louis’ eyes in the mirror, but Louis is shaking his head. “Ash has his obscenely gorgeous dick right in front of your face, and you’re not even sucking it. I thought I taught you better than that.” Louis’ words hit Harry like a slap to his face. Fuck, he wishes someone would slap him in the face, a hand a cock, doesn’t matter, he just suddenly wants it to happen, but that is besides the point. 

Without another moment's thought, Harry opens his mouth, swallowing Ashton down whole with no preamble of licking or kissing. He just shoves Ashton’s cock down his throat quickly with no hesitation, until his nose is nudging against the smattering of blond trimmed hair at the base of Ashton’s cock. Harry can’t help but swirl his tongue instinctively, his tongue ring audibly clanging against the bar in Ashton’s cock. He hears it when Ashton gasps at the sensation, grabbing two fistfuls of Harry’s hair like a knee jerk reaction. It’s slightly painful, but Harry, of course, doesn't mind the pain. He loves it, in fact. Ashton’s cock is hard and heavy in his mouth, and Harry flicks his tongue and sucks at his hard length with abandon. He knows that his actions are affecting both Ashton and Louis by the noises they are making, and the way that Louis’ dick twitches whenever Harry’s tight ass bumps against it with the movement of his sucking. 

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good. I think you deserve a little reward,” Louis tells him, his voice so calm and steady, Harry just wants to punch him. How is he so fucking calm about all of this? Harry feels like his cock is either going to explode or shrivel up and fall off, meanwhile Louis sounds totally unphased by the whole situation. How? How does he fucking stay so calm? Harry doesn't have time to contemplate it further because he can feel the head of Louis’ cock pressing into his hole. He must have added more lube at some point, because it is slick and perfect. Louis is gripping his hips like a vice as he feeds his length in slowly. Too slowly. Harry wants to cry with frustration, but he can’t because he has Ashton's cock in his mouth. 

As Louis’ hips hit Harry’s sore ass, Harry feels like the sensations are overriding him. He can’t fucking think. All he can feel are two cocks buried deep inside of him, driving him mad with lust while Louis fingers are bruising his skin, his hips hitting against his sensitive ass. He has Ashton in front of him, and he can’t help but take a deep breath in through his nose, inhaling Ashton's scent, sending him deeper towards the brink of oblivion. He can’t even reach down to stroke his own dick because he has to use Ashton’s hips for balance, especially now that Louis has started thrusting quick and hard into him. He feels so helpless, but when he glances over to the mirror and sees the picture in front of him, it all seems worth it. He knows that it will all be worth it. 

Seeing himself being used like this is almost like an out of body experience. The way Louis’ hips are pistoning into him, creating a loud slapping sound each time they make contact with his reddened ass, echoing throughout the room, mingling with their moans and heavy breathing. The way Ashton’s big hands are gripping his curls in tight fists, a look of utter bliss on his beautiful features as Harry sucks him off. The whole fucking thing is just too much and not enough. Fuck. Harry does the only thing he can think to do, he lets himself slip under. He lets his head go to that floating place where everything is lovely, and soft. That place where the world feels as if it is below him and he is flying. 

 

__________

 

Ashton makes the mistake of looking in the mirror and meets Harry’s glazed over eyes. Holy shit. He still feels like he is in the Twilight Zone. How did his night turn into this? How is he getting his dick sucked by such a lovely boy while that very same boy is being fucked from behind by his equally lovely boyfriend? Harry is utilizing Louis’ momentum to his advantage, using the motion of Louis’ thrusts to pace the movement of his own mouth, so Ashton is almost getting fucked by Louis by proxy. Does that even make any fucking sense? Nothing about this night makes any fucking sense, so he is just going to go with it, like he has been doing all fucking night. It seems to be working to his advantage thus far. 

Ashton is close. Dangerously fucking close. He probably would have already come if it had not been for the small break his cock had while he was sucking Louis’ dick, then watching Louis spank Harry. If he could call that a break, that is. He needs a fucking dictionary to look up the meaning of the word because he is almost positive it was not a break. Both scenarios made his cock and balls ache beyond belief, screaming to be touched. Yup. After all of this is said and done, Ashton is going to purchase a dictionary then bookmark the Urban Dictionary on his web browser. He seems to need that as well. He didn’t know what a rotisserie was until about ten minutes ago, afterall. He has seriously been living under a rock for his entire fucking life. Not any more. He’s busting out of that cave like a bat out of hell. Ashton supposes he hasn’t been a closeted gay or bi man, just a troglodyte living in a cave this entire fucking time. He just didn’t know what he was missing before, but now the sun is literally shining in his face, in the form of one Louis Tomlinson. He may be damned, but if he’s gotta be damned then he wants to be damned with Larry. 

Harry’s mouth feels just as amazing as it did the first time Harry sucked his dick, only this time Harry has more control over the situation. Well, Harry looks a bit fucked out, his eyes are glazed over completely now and they are watering from the force of Ashton’s cock hitting the back of his throat, and he almost seems as though he has drifted away to cloud nine, but he does have some semblance of control. His mouth is as red as his ass is, wrapped tightly around Ashton’s cock, and Ashton doesn’t think he has ever seen a more beautiful or sinful sight. Louis is using his powerfully muscular legs and ridiculously voluptuous ass to fuck into Harry, hard, making them all move in unison with it. Ashton is mesmerized by the sight of Louis’ thick cock disappearing into Harry as he watches the display reflected back at him in the mirror. Yeah. He isn’t going to last long. Nope. No fucking way. He has Buckley’s chance of staving off his orgasm much longer. He is already teetering on the edge, when Louis fucking speaks. Of fucking course. 

“You like this, baby? Do you like being used by your Daddies?” Louis asks Harry, his voice as hard as his grip on Harry’s hips. Harry moans around Ashton’s cock, sending a shockwave of pleasure through him, directly to his already too tight and over sensitive balls. Then Harry flattens out his tongue so that it ghosts over those very same balls while he still has his cock in his mouth, and Ashton wants to fucking die. Holy shit. Harry is like a fucking wizard or some shit. How did his tongue manage to be in two places at once? Fucking Gandalf. That’s what he should be called. Instead of ‘you shall not pass’ he will just say ‘you shall not come’ or something equally as frustrating. Ashton needs to distract himself, so… fuck it… he is going to talk too. Talking seems to be the only way he will be able to divert his attention from the sights and sounds that are inching him closer and closer to the brink of certain death. Ashton can totally fucking talk. He’s a true blue Aussie after all. Talking is like his middle name. Ashton Talking-Fletcher Irwin. That doesn't have a ring to it, though. He needs to think something different. Later, though. Much, much later. Right now, he needs to fucking speak. 

“Of course he does. He is gagging for it. He can’t get enough of having two hard cocks shoved deep inside of him. That has to be better than one.” As soon as Harry hears his voice, he preens, probably from his accent more than what he actually said. He may or may not have purposely made his accent thicker when he said that, but he will never admit it. His accent seems to do things to Harry, but Ashton isn’t going to complain. No, Sir. No fucking complaining from him, since all he has to do his talk, and Harry is a puddle at his feet. It’s probably a good thing that Harry is in fact male and and has a cock, and not a female with a vagina or Ashton would need a life jacket to survive the flood he’d have created with his voice alone. He still may need a life jacket. The three of them are almost at the point of exploding, and the Come River is about to break its banks. Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about Harry and come. 

Harry’s everything does something to Ashton, so it’s only fair, really. How does that saying go? Oh yes.  All is fair in love, war, and Larry threesomes. Well Ashton may or may not have added the ‘Larry threesome’ part to the quote, so sue him. It fucking fits, and he thinks it’s better that way. Ashton isn’t going to even consider Louis in this equation right now, because that’s just too fucking much, and again, they said there would be no maths. Why is there always so much fucking maths? Louis is just. Fuck. He is commanding, sexy, and his voice. His fucking  _ voice _ . 

That must be how Harry feels when Ashton speaks. Everything about Louis is perfect. Ashton doesn't know how he has landed in a threesome with who of the most perfect men alive, but he isn’t going to question it. He will just thank every god he knows when it’s over. Maybe do some kind of ritual. Are virgin sacrifices still a thing? Where is he going to find a virgin in this fucking economy? Oh well. He’s sure there is some other equally significant ritual he can perform to praise whichever fucking god it is that saw fit to bestow this level of luck on him. A volcano. He needs a volcano. He can find something of importance to throw into a volcano. He could throw his gold Rolex to Xibalba. Yes. That will work. Oh it’s so, so, so fun to be a God. 

“Do you want Ash to come on your pretty face, baby? Make you a dirty boy. Make you the dirtiest boy for your Daddies,” Louis asks, and Harry’s fingers dig into Ashton’s hips so deep, it hurts. Ashton has found he likes the pain just a bit though. Harry does nothing but moan in response, looking up at Ashton with wide green eyes, tears and spit covering his cheeks and mouth, and yes. Ashton wants to come on his incredibly handsome face. He is already so fucking close to coming it hurts. Just the thought of coming on Harry’s face, coating his long eyelashes, red lips, and sharp jaw in his release, is enough to almost send him over the edge. Harry’s cheeks are hollowed out from sucking so hard, but Ashton somehow, and really it is a fucking miracle at this point, pulls out of his mouth quickly with an obscenely wet popping sound.

Ashton grips his dick in one hand as he begins to stroke it directly over Harry’s mouth. Harry, for his part, closes his eyes and opens his hot, wet mouth obediently, making Ashton groan in response. No one has ever let him come on their face before, but he has always wanted to do it. Always gotten off  just thinking about it, and now the time is finally here. Holy shit. He feels like he is in a dream, these boys making all of his wildest fantasies come true. If this is the Realm of Larry, then Ashton never wants to leave. He is going to fucking move in. Again, he wonders how he can broach the subject of making this a semi permanent arrangement with Harry and Louis. That is something he never thought he would ever want or even considering for himself. But he wants to. He really fucking wants to. 

“That’s it, love. Get him all filthy. Mark him.” Louis’s voice still manages to sound commanding despite the fact that it is now high pitched and raspy with need. Ashton glances up, eyes landing on Louis who is just watching him wank over Harry’s face. Louis’ startling blue eyes are dilated, almost completely black and hooded. He has a light sheen of sweat covering his entire body, and he looks powerful. Almost like a God. For the first time in his life, Ashton wants to drop to his knees and pray. Maybe he should be sacrificing his gold Rolex to Louis instead of Xibalba. Rather than praying to Louis, he comes instead, his orgasm being ripped from him like his very soul is being torn from his body. His back bows inward towards Harry as if his body just wants to be near the man, and he paints Harry’s beautiful face with his hot release.

He doens’t know how he has that much come left after already having orgasmed twice before this, but ribbon after ribbon is coating every feature on Harry’s face, marking him in the best possible way. His long, dark eyelashes, red lips, sharp jawline, and perfect nose are all covered in the substance, it even having managed to land in his chocolate curls. It vaguely reminds Ashton of dew drops on grass on a spring morning. It’s art. This is fucking art. It should be in a fucking gallery, or on some rich bloke’s wall to be admired. Ashton doesn’t think he has any business getting to see this, however he is seeing it. He is seeing it and living it. And for that he is so very fucking thankful. He doesn't know how he has  gotten so lucky as to experience this, but he never wants to forget this exact moment. The moment he came apart on Harry’s face. He makes a mental note then to Google how to tattoo a memory onto the back of his eyelids, because the sight of Harry in front of him, as he is now, bent over at the waist, curls wild, face cover in come, is how he should be remembered for eternity. But for his eyes only. Ashton is stingy like that. 

“Oh, you’re nice and dirty, baby. Look at you,” Louis says, and then Harry blinks open his eyes carefully, a string of come getting stuck on his lashes as he does so. It should be gross, but it’s not. It is hot, sexy and obscene in all of the best ways. Harry licks his lips, smearing some of Ashton’s hot come across the soft red skin as it mixes with his own spit, and he swallows what Ashton did manage to aim in his mouth. Ashton’s aim may not have been the best, but no one told him how hard it would be to aim his own come. It looks easy in porn, but Ashton thinks he did a pretty damn good job for his first time. He could make a splash in the porn industry. He already has a fucking life jacket. Is come art a thing? He could make a killing off of that, too. He may as well just change his name to Jackson Pollock at this point. It could work for his art and his impending porn career. 

Louis doesn’t give him much of an opportunity to admire his masterpiece though, because he grips Harry’s collar then, and hoists him up, pulling his back flush against his toned chest with a wet smacking sound. Ashton watches in awe as Louis manhandles Harry, without removing his cock from him, as he pushes him roughly against the mirror, Louis going up onto his tiptoes as he does so. Harry’s face is squished against the reflective surface. Ashton supposes that Mulan is right, Harry’s reflection really is showing who he is inside. Just call him fucking Mushu. Never mind. He doesn’t want to be the sidekick, plus is dragon porn even a thing?

The come is making abstract patterns on the surface of the glass now. Fuck Picasso. Who needs that bloke when someone could have abstract come art on a fucking mirror. Ashton wonders if Larry will let him have this exact mirror to display in his own home. He certainly doesn't have enough art there. The Girl Before a Mirror who? Ashton doesn’t fucking know her; he only knows Harry Before a Mirror and that is superior in every way. He would even fucking pay for it. Ashton swears Harry could create art without even fucking trying. Harry can just stand there, and he’s art. That’s when Ashton gets an idea. And where the fuck it came from he will never know, but he doesn't stop to think about it too much. He figures it will either work in his favour, or Louis will knock him out. 

Ashton goes over to Harry and swipes his finger through his own come. He watches for a few moments as Louis pounds into Harry, Harry being fucked almost into the mirror itself, both men now grunting and moaning with abandon. If Ashton’s cock wasn’t so spent, he thinks he would get hard again, but he may have reached his quota of orgasms for the day. He isn’t even sure how he managed to go as many times as he already has. Another magical Larry power at work there no doubt. He will just add it to the seemingly endless list. He is going to need a six foot long scroll at this point. May as well purchase a feather quill while he’s at it. It could go with the whole aesthetic. 

Now though, he just wants to get his boys off.  _ His boys _ ? What the fuck? He knows he has only done this once, and he may never get to do it again, but he feels that shit deep in his soul. They are his boys now, and he wants nothing more than to pleasure them they way they have both done for him. With that thought, he slowly walks up behind Louis, kissing his neck as he continues to thrust into Harry. He then bites down, feeling it against his mouth and tongue when Louis releases a deep moan. He slowly lowers his hand, down between Louis’ cheeks as he continues to lay hot kisses on his golden skin. He has never done this before, but he felt it when Louis did it to him. It can’t be that difficult to return the favour, surely. He will just take it slow and steady until he gets comfortable with it, the same way he has done all night. 

With a shaking hand, Ashton traces Louis’ tight hole with his come soaked fingers, feeling it when Louis pauses for a second to moan. Okay, so maybe this is the right thing to do. Maybe Louis wont punch him square in the face. Obviously Louis doesn’t have a blood kink. Ashton doesn’t think he has one, but _ he _ also didn’t think he had a Daddy kink at the beginning of the night either. Stranger things have happened, it seems. After tracing around Louis’ puckered hole for a few seconds, getting a feel for it, he slowly pushes the tip of his index finger past the tight ring of muscle, feeling it tighten further around him for a split second before Louis relaxes. 

“That’s it, relax, bub,” Ashton hears himself mummer in Louis’ ear. He hopes his random Aussie term of endearment isn’t weird, but he just remembers what Louis had said to him what feels like forever ago now,  when in reality it was probably only half an hour. Louis seems to like his words though because he relaxes enough for Ashton to push his whole finger in, and holy fuck it’s tight. Harry was already wet and loose from the plug when Ashton fucked him, but Louis. Louis is hot and tight. He grabs the discarded bottle of lube that just so happens to be on the floor at his feet. Louis really is a sex god for always thinking ahead, and Ashton coats his fingers with some since Louis probably doesn’t have a pain kink like Harry does. He wants it to be good for him, not painful. Ashton lets Louis set the pace then, thrusting into Harry then back onto Ashton’s come and lube soaked finger, moaning with abandon. 

“Add another,” Louis demands, his voice sounding as if he has swallowed gravel. Harry is no longer able to form words it seems, reduced to moaning and whimpering as he is being roughly fucked against the cool surface of the mirror. His dick his hard and angry, rubbing against it with every thrust, probably just enough to keep him on edge and madden him further. Ashton knows that Harry won’t come without Louis’ permission, though. At least not again, anyway. Ashton does as he was asked, adding another finger along side the first, pressing his muscular body flush against Louis’ back, essentially pushing Harry further into the mirror, if that is even fucking possible. Louis moans when it happens, seemingly enjoying the stretch and burn of it. Ashton then begins to experiment a bit, crooking and scissoring his fingers in different directions to see what brings the best sounds out of Louis. The answer is: all of them. All of them are good sounds. Fuck. Yes, it’s official. Louis’ voice does something to him, much like Harry’s everything. 

“Ah. Fuck. Gods,” Louis growls when Ashton moves his fingers a certain way, and bingo, he must have found Louis’ spot. Ashton shouldn’t be this smug, but he is. He quickly positions his fingers so that he is rubbing against Louis’ prostate every single time Louis pulls his dick almost completely out of Harry, before fucking back into him again quickly. The only sounds in the room are a wet slapping sound, Harry’s pathetic moans mixed with their ragged breaths and the rumbling and thudding of the mirrored door as it rattles in the runner. It’s a heady mixture that Ashton wishes he could record and play on repeat at home later. His spank bank would never be the same again if he could. His memory would just have to do for now. He can ask them if he can record themselves fucking at a later date.

“Shit. Ash. Oh gods. Fuck yeah. Right there. Fuck. You’re both gonna make me come,” Louis chokes out after a few more minutes of what Ashton has deemed the Seesaw of Pleasure. He should know, he was on the fucking thing not too long ago, and he  _ wasn’t  _ allowed to come even though he desperately wanted to. Maybe someday Louis will allow Ashton to come inside Harry’s tight ass. He isn’t complaining, though, he would be happy if he could just have another night like this if he could. 

“Come with me, baby. Make Daddy proud,” Louis says then, and Ashton feels it when Louis comes, hard, his entire body clenching around Ashton’s thick fingers, cutting off circulation to the point where Ashton thinks he is going to lose them. What would he tell people? That would be one of hell of a conversation. ‘Ashton, how did you lose your fingers, mate?’ ‘Well, I was finger fucking my mate while he was fucking his boyfriend. When he came, he cut off my circulation for too long, and that’s how I lost them.’ It even sounds outlandish to him, and he is living it. Fuck, though, he would be more than willing to tell that story to some poor bastard if it means he gets to see the looks of utter bliss on both Louis and Harry’s face as they come simultaneously. 

Louis’ eyes are closed now, his dark pink lips parted as he grips Harry’s hips even harder with his orgasm. Harry, on the other hand, has somehow managed to keep his eyes open, watching Louis’s face as he fills him with his release. His red, kiss bitten lips are parted in a silent scream as he coats the mirror with just a tiny amount of come, his orgasm seeming to pull every vestige of the white substance he had left from his wrecked body. His whole body goes limp as soon as he is done and Ashton wonders how in the hell Harry hasn’t passed out before now. However, seeing Larry come, with his own eyes, may just be the most beautiful sight Ashton has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He doesn't know if there is a better view available in the world than the one he currently has in front of him. And if there is, he doesn’t want to see it.

Louis finds Ashton’s eyes in the mirror and nods towards Harry, a silent gesture to tell him that he needs help, so Ashton slowly removes his fingers from Louis’ tight hole, almost wanting to whimper at the loss of heat. When Ashton walks around Louis to Harry, he understands immediately what Louis was trying to convey to him, because as soon as Louis pulls out, Harry’s body goes even more limp if that’s fucking possible. It is almost as if Louis’ dick was the only thing keeping Harry standing. He falls onto both Ashton and Louis, smiling brightly up at them. Louis nods towards the bed, so Ashton helps him there, both men carefully laying Harry down onto the plush mattress.  

“Baby. I am going to go get you some water and a banana. Ashton will lay with you until I get back, okay?” Louis says softly then, running his fingers through Harry’s sweat soaked curls, white come drying in some places. Ashton doesn't know exactly what is happening, but he, for the first time tonight, feels like he is intruding on a personal moment between them. His heart aches in his chest seeing the look of utter trust on Harry’s face as he gazes at Louis with wide eyes. Louis’ own face is impossibly soft and fond, as if he doesn't want to leave Harry, but he must. Louis gestures towards Harry, so Ashton gets on the bed, stiffly laying beside Harry. Louis smiles at him, watching them for a brief moment, then disappears out the door. Harry whimpers as soon as Louis is out of sight, then folds himself around Ashton, his long limbs curling around him like a child clinging to something warm and safe. Ashton freezes, unsure of what he is supposed to do next. 

On one hand, he wants to comfort Harry, but on the other, he doesn't want to do anything inappropriate to piss Louis off. The former wins out though, because Harry is so lovely and seems so vulnerable right now. He clearly wants some form of comfort, and Ashton can’t let his fear stop him. It just seems like the right thing to do, so he brings his arms around Harry and runs his fingers through his sweaty curls, whispering sweet words of comfort in Harry’s ear. Harry sighs happily, and burrows his face in the crook of Ashton’s neck, nudging his nose against the sensitive skin there. Harry is sweaty and has come drying into his soft skin, but Ashton can’t bring himself to give a fuck. Harry seems to need him, so he will be there for him for as long as Harry needs him to be. He just hopes he is doing the right thing. He feels out of his element with this, so he just lays there and cuddles Harry, waiting for Louis to come back. 

A few moments later, Louis returns with some wet face washers, a few bottles of water, and a banana. Ashton freezes because he is currently cuddled up to Louis’ boyfriend, Harry practically purring in his ear as he clings to him, but Louis just smiles brightly at the pair of them, seemingly unfazed. “Thanks for staying with him. I hate leaving him like that, but I forgot to grab water and stuff in our haste to get in here earlier,” Louis says, sitting down on the bed beside Harry and petting his back. “You did so good, baby. I’m so proud of you. My perfect boy. So lovely. Pleasing his Daddy so well,” Louis says, and Harry outright purrs like a tiny kitten. Ashton was saying similar things just moments before, so he supposes maybe he was doing the right thing after all. Maybe he has an instinct for this, even though he still doesn't entirely know what’s going on. 

“What’s happening,” Ashton asks, because he is very confused and slightly concerned about Harry. He has never seen anyone act like this after sex, but then again he has never been with a sub, or been a part of… what did Louis call it?… oh yeah… a scene. He has never been a part of a scene before, so he has no idea what is normal and what isn’t. It just feels like Harry isn’t with them. Like his body is obviously there, but his mind seems somewhere else, so Ashton is completely out of his depth. Louis doesn’t seem worried though, as he helps Harry to sit up and coaxes him into taking a few sips of water and eating a few bites of the banana as he mummers more words of encouragement. 

“He’s in subspace,” Louis finally answers after Harry drinks three quarters of the water and eats half of the banana. Subspace? What the fuck is that? When did Ashton walk into an astronomy lecture? He must look confused because Louis chuckles and continues, “umm… it’s kind of a place he goes during scenes. He says it feels like he is floating and like nothing can touch him. That he feels like we are the only two people in the world that exist. Well, this time you seem to also exist.” Louis smiles with the last statement, eyes crinkling at the corners, and a warmness blooms in Ashton’s chest. He still has a lot of questions, but decides to ask them at different time. Harry needs them now, his questions can wait.  _ Them.  _ He needs  _ them. _

“Is he okay?” Ashton asks, because he feels like he has to know. He looks okay, but he also looks fucked out and wrecked. The thought of Harry not being okay sends him into somewhat of a panic. He has an uncontrollable desire to protect him because he has given so much of himself and so much of his trust to Ashton in all of this. He barely even knew Ashton when this whole thing started, but he seems to have found something in him to trust, and Ashton refuses to throw that away. Refuses to break Harry’s or Louis’ trust in any way. 

“Oh yeah. He’s more than okay, Ash. Don’t worry. He just needs a little bit of extra attention afterwards because otherwise he will drop, and subdrops are a bitch. He’s gone pretty deep this time, must have been because we added you into the mix. He will come back though, don’t worry. He just needs some stuff to anchor him,” Louis responds. Ashton looks at Harry who has laid back down on the bed and is smiling serenely at both of them. Suddenly their tattoo designs make so much more sense to Ashton. Louis got a rope because it ties to Harry’s anchor, literally keeping him on Earth when he goes into subspace. There is something so beautiful about that, and it makes Ashton’s eyes sting with hot, unshed tears. Holy shit. These two men are the epitome of love. Their relationship is goals and something Ashton feels like he needs to start striving for. Maybe not with them permanently, because they have each other, but maybe, just maybe, there is  his own version of Harry out there. Someone who compliments and completes him, just like Harry and Louis compliment and complete each other. 

“Umm--- so what do we do now?” Ashton asks, suddenly feeling awkward. He doesn’t know if he should get up and start getting dressed or… He just feels like he doesn’t want to leave right now. As if his role in all of this  is still unfinished, and he has no idea why. He probably should leave, though. This part is probably just for Louis and Harry. A private moment reserved just for them. Harry is Louis’ baby, after all, so it only makes sense that  Louis gets to take care of him. That’s how this works isn’t it? Maybe he should get off the bed and start getting dressed. It is probably getting far too late, and he has probably already overstayed his welcome. When he moves, Harry whimpers pathetically, reaching out one long limb and clutches onto Ashton’s elbow, effectively stopping him from going any further, and that’s new. 

“Ash, umm-- I don’t want to sound crazy or pushy or anything, so don’t feel like you have to say yes, but umm-- do you want to stay for the night? Would you stay for the night? Our bed is big enough for all of us, and I think Harry would like it very much if you stayed.  _ I _ would like if you stayed,” Louis says, the sentences coming out so quickly it sends Ashton’s head spinning. All the words seem to run together, but the only one Ashton hears clearly is ‘stay’. Harry seems to have understood it, because he nods and makes a sound of approval. They want him to  _ stay. _ They don’t think he is intruding on their moment. They don’t think he has overstayed his welcome. Ashton kind of wants to cry with the news, but he doesn’t. Somehow he manages to keep his composure. 

Ashton finds himself nodding vigorously before he even has time to process the question properly because yes, he wants to stay. His whole body is screaming at him to stay and cuddle with these men who have shown him a whole new world. Great, now he is going to have that stupid fucking Disney song stuck in his head for the rest of the night, but a parodied version with dirty verses. Something along the lines of:  _ A whole new world, toys, rotisserie, complay, tell me, Ashton, when did you last let your cock decide _ ? He will come up with the rest of the lyrics later, because right now, tiredness has crashed into his body hard. His eyelids feel heavy and his limbs suddenly feel like they are made of lead. Before he can think of sleep, however, he helps Louis clean Harry up with a damp face washer as they both continue to praise him. He then uses another one to clean himself off a bit, Louis doing the same. He feels sticky and gross, but a shower was just not happening tonight. The idea of a Larry shower in the morning, though, sounds like a grand fucking plan.  

“Are you sure this is okay?” Ashton asks, second guessing himself again, he needs some reassurance that both Harry and Louis really do want this. He doesn’t know for the life of him why, Larry have not lead him astray yet, and he has a feeling they never will. But he still has to make sure.

“Yes, Ash. Honestly. I really don’t want you to go. Plus, you look exhausted. It wouldn’t be safe for you to drive home like this,” Louis reasons, going over to the light switches near the door and shutting off the light, leaving the room in complete darkness. Louis is worried about him, and he doesn't’ want him to leave. For some reason, Ashton thought this was mostly Harry’s idea, but it seems more and more that Louis was just as interested in him as Harry was. Louis is lovely, really. 

“Okay,” Ashton says into the darkness then. He feels it when Louis gets on the bed, climbing in on the other side of Harry. They are all three still naked, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel weird. Ashton doesn’t feel the need to cover himself, either. It feels perfect. He lays back then, and pulls the thick comforter over himself and Harry, the air feeling chilly now that the sweat has dried off his body. He feels Louis do the same on his side, covering them all up completely. Harry sighs contentedly between them and cuddles against Ashton’s side, curled back into a foetal position. 

“He likes to be the little spoon,” Louis supplies into the darkness, when Ashton feels Louis curl up behind Harry, his small hand coming to rest on Ashton’s hip so they are all touching in some way. Ashton doesn't think about it as he rolls slightly onto his side, arranging himself so one arm is supporting Harry’s head, his other coming around Harry to then finally wrap around Louis too, stroking his now dry back. His skin is soft and warm under Ashton’s fingers, pulling him further towards sleep. Ashton has decided. Louis is the sun. Warm. A a beacon of light for Harry’s world to revolve around. Ashton maybe joining that solar system, as well. Even if he has to be Pluto. He still hasn’t forgiven those stupid pretentious scientist for taking away Pluto’s status as a fucking planet. 

“Good night, Ash. I’m really glad we saw you at the restaurant tonight,” Louis says, his soft and almost hesitant voice breaking through Ashton’s ridiculous train of thought. 

“I’m really glad, too,” Ashton responds truthfully, then feels Louis move out of his grasp. Louis lips are on his before Ashton has a moment to process what is happening, warm and chaste. “Sleep well.” 

“You, too,” Ashton replies, and he hope he doesn’t sound as startled as he feels. He then glances down at Harry, barely able to make out his delicate features in the darkness of the room. Thankfully, his eyes have adjusted just enough to see that Harry’s eyes are closed. He looks so soft and comfortable. Ashton runs one finger over his sharp jaw, again in awe that they both have let him be a part of this. Even if it is just this once, he will treasure this night forever. “Good night, beautiful Harry,” he says, then kisses Harry on softly, smiling when he feels Harry barely kissing him back. 

“Good night, my Hazza. Happy Anniversary, baby. I love you,” Louis says, taking his turn to kiss Harry goodnight too. 

“Good night, Ashy. Thank you for helping Lou to make my day so special. Good night, Loubear. Thank you for making this the best Anniversary ever. I love you, too,” Harry whispers, his warm breath ghosting over Ashton’s skin, and Ashton didn’t even think he was awake. Doesn’t even know how he is coherent enough to form words at all. Why is he thanking him? Ashton should be thanking them. He plans to, tomorrow. He plans to tell them exactly how they have changed his life forever, thank them for helping him to discover a part of himself he didn’t even know was hidden and thank them for letting him be a part of this magical night. 

It’s the first time Harry has spoken since… well, Ashton isn’t sure when the last time he actually heard Harry string together a comprehensible sentence was. Maybe sometime between five seconds of sucking and the seesaw of pleasure part one. Either way, Harry seems to be back with them, at least a little bit anyway. His breathing has evened out now, and Ashton is pretty sure he is finally asleep. Louis lays back down into his position again, his hand coming to rest on Ashton’s hip once more, and Ashton allows himself to relax into the mattress and pillows cradling his spent body. Harry’s head is still laying on his arm, and Ashton tightens his hold on Louis, again, since Louis broke free, feeling the need to sandwich Harry between them completely in a protective cocoon. He knows Harry isn’t his, and never will be, not in the way that he is Louis’,  but Ashton feels protective of him all the same. 

They all fall asleep like that mere moments later, wrapped up in each others arms, breathing in each others air. It is hot, it is perfect, and is hands down the best sleep Ashton thinks he has ever had. Welcome to the Realm of Larry, where your world is altered forever, and you have no hope of ever leaving the same way you entered. The land where minds are changed, and people still believe in true love. The magical land where birds may have eyebrows, the roses have daggers, and Freddie Mercury sings the soundtrack to your life. But it is practically perfect in every single way. Freddie is the Queen in the Realm of Larry, afterall. Ashton just hopes that one day, one day soon, that he will be lucky enough to find his Harry out there in the world. To find a love as pure and as beautiful as the love that Louis and Harry share. 

Wouldn’t it be nice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

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